


Trepidation

by MabelOverture



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Hurt!Spock, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 66,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelOverture/pseuds/MabelOverture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk had never felt such fear as he did when he realized his first officer had become the target of a malicious and unfamiliar enemy.<br/>***a revised, far more improved version of this story is available at http://archiveofourown.org/works/7225096/chapters/16399756</p><p>Trust me, the writing is quite superior to this one. Check that out instead ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undiscovered Territory

**Author's Note:**

> The relationship between Spock and Kirk is extremely important and fascinating to me, and I've written them as having a very deep, passionate friendship (however feel free to read it however you fancy). McCoy is featured just as much, because he's amazing. 
> 
> Thank you to those who've had such kind words to say about it! It warms my heart, friends.

"Report, Chekov." The voice of the captain followed shortly after the sound of the arriving turbo lift.

"Still no sign, Keptin."

"Dammit."

Kirk fell into his Captain's chair, snatching up his PADD to look over the data. It just didn't make any logical sense to him. In front of the entire bridge's eyes, and on record thanks to the sensors, a foreign space vessel sputtered in the far distance only an hour ago. It was near the horizon of the planet they were approaching, a planet which showed absolutely zero signs of life.

Chekov's sensors had begun alarming the second after Kirk squinted his eyes and muttered, "Is that a...?"

And it was. Absolutely, no doubt, it was a spaceship. As he always did when he doubted himself, he looked over to his first officer for affirmation. Spock nodded his head; yes. When the Captain looked back to the view screen, it was gone. The alarms had silenced.

"Spock, where is the closest planet to this one?" He had asked him immediately after.

"3,145.67 lightyears away, Captain."

"Thought so." He grumbled. They were all thinking the same thing; who, or what, was in that spaceship? They were in undiscovered territory, and halfway through their 5-year mission, the furthest a federation vessel had ever travelled. Everything out here was an unknown. However, even unknowns showed some consistency. The laws of physics are understood by all beings, therefore many aspects of alien life tended to line up with one another. A disappearing spaceship near an extremely isolated (and dead) planet belonged to nothing they'd encountered before. The long-range sensors on the USS Enterprise were exceptional - top of the line. There was a passionate Scottish man on board her that could attest to that. Even with a cloaking device, the Enterprise should have been able to find that ship again. And even if that were not the case, just who exactly was it? Why were they at that uncharted, undiscovered, uninhabited planet? And why did they disappear?

Halfway through his inner musings, Kirk noticed the presence of his friend next to him. He looked up to Spock, blindly hoping that the logical man would have an answer.

"Speculation, Spock? Anything?"

The Vulcan sighed, a rare but definitive sign that he was stumped.

"I have none, Captain. Clearly, there was a ship several hundred miles away from our own. Our eyes cannot have betrayed us, as I have data recorded by the sensors that it did exist, if only for a moment."

"Who could they be? Did you recognize the design at all?"

He shook his head. "It was too far to adequately observe...Mr. Chekov, please access those few seconds in which the ship is visible and magnify."

Chekov shifted his deep gaze from the view screen to his controls, clicking what needed clicked. He tried to pull up the time the mysterious ship was noticed, but there was no data available. He blinked a few times and furrowed his brow. "What...?"

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" Spock inquired, sensing the young man's confusion.

"I...the computer, Meester Spock. There's no signs of the ship, the data is...it's gone, sir!"

With that bold statement, Kirk rose from his chair and Spock stepped forward to Chekov's controls.

"That is impossible." Spock said, mostly to himself, as he reached for the controls. He had just looked over the sensor charts moments ago, they couldn't simply disappear. A foreign and perhaps dangerous ship disappearing was one thing, but the disappearing of recorded data on the Enterprise was another.

Kirk watched nervously, praying that Chekov had made a mistake and that Spock would fix it. Any hope he had in his gut plummeted when he saw the minor shake of Spock's head.

"He's right, Captain...the recording, the data of that ship," he turned to look at his friend, "is gone."


	2. An Unknown Enemy

For the countless time, James Kirk found himself and his most trusted fellowship sitting in the Deck A conference room. An anomaly had occurred, and not a single person had any clue how or why. Data recordings, which were viewed by multiple crew members, suddenly did not exist anywhere in the banks. Kirk, at the head of the table, had his chin resting on his left palm.

They were all silent, each lost in their own hypotheses and minds.

"A storm." the Captain thought out loud. "A magnetic, or cosmic storm."

"Captain?" Scotty asked.

"Perhaps some sort of storm sent a wave towards the Enterprise and screwed with her, erased the data."

"Unlikely," came the bass of Spock's voice. "as a storm powerful enough to do so would incur much more damage. More than that single chart of data would be tampered." He echoed what Kirk admittedly already knew.

"Not to mention we'd be having major alerts coming from the sensors if a storm came on us." grumbled McCoy.

"Right, right." agreed Kirk. "I just can't make sense of it."

"I believe it's safe to assume that the recordings were deliberately erased, Captain." Spock said. "No other alternative seems possible."

"Erased?" Kirk asked in disbelief.

"By whomever was in that succinct ship."

"And WHO was in that ship?! Is there any, bizarre way that a ship could pass our sensors undetected? Could the technology be so advanced?"

"Captain, the last civilization we came in contact with had technological advances only a few Earth centuries behind our own." Scotty said with his head in his PADD, briefing over his notes. "Granted, they're quite a ways away from here, but there's just no way that two planets in the same galaxy could be so varied!" He looked up and met his Captain's gaze. "And, well, even at planet's who were further ahead than us in such a way...we were still able to clearly read their ships."

Kirk nodded. "Thank you, Scotty." In return, the engineer simply gave him a sympathetic look.

"Erased, Spock..." Jim adverted back to his XO. "You're implying they have mal intentions."

"Not necessarily, Captain, although that is a possibility." Kirk swallowed, keeping Spock's gaze for a moment. They'd come across beings with mal intent before, and it never got easier for Kirk to deal with. Putting his crew in dangerous situations was his least favorite thing about being Captain. Although he worried for them, he could never doubt them or their abilities. They knew what they signed up for. After all, risk was their business.

"So we've had a supernatural experience." McCoy summed up. The doctor had to stifle a chuckle at the extremely subtle eye roll Spock gave.

"Doctor-" began the Vulcan.

"Do you have a better theory, Spock?"

"Using the word 'supernatural' implies you -"

"I'm just saying we don't understand what happened."

"Stating such a thing implies that all scientific discoveries began as a paranormal thesis."

"Ugh, God. Listen Spock-"

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty! Can we get back to more pressing matters?" Kirk intervened with glowing eyes. McCoy released a very deep and frustrated sigh.

"We have no possible explanation, Jim." he said.

"Fine. We have no explanation. Now what we need to discuss is our next course of action." All eyes were on him. "What do we do next?"

It was a very loaded question.

"We get the hell out of dodge." McCoy said, unblinking. Scotty shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Why?" asked the Captain. He genuinely wanted to hear his reasoning, as any input whatsoever was deemed valuable to him. 

"There are...someone is out there, screwing with us. We know nothing about them, and they've fooled around with our ship. We saw them, they realized it, and they disappeared, taking our evidence with them. If they can do all that, they could do unimaginable harm to us as well."

"But wouldn't that insinuate that they want nothing to do with us?" countered Spock. "Why else would they go to such lengths to take away our records? Captain, I believe we should complete our analysis of the planet, as we would have prior."

"Dammit Spock, can't you let your science go for once? You'll have plenty of other opportunities in the future." glared McCoy. 

"Doctor, consider dialing back your emotions and understand that we have a mission aboard this ship. We cannot flee simply because we fear what is unknown to us."

"We're sitting ducks, Jim." McCoy adverted his attention from Spock. "They could be watching us, waiting to see if they need to take action or not. The more time we waste, the worse off we're gonna be."

"They may have left, Bones."

"Well we should follow suite."

Silence surrounded them once more.

"Scotty?" asked Jim, looking to his engineer. Scotty shook his head, his gaze to the table. 

"It doesn't seem right, Captain. Something is off about this." He chewed his lower lip nervously. Jim nodded. Scotty's gut was telling him it was bad, and Jim trusted Scotty's gut. He also trusted his own, which had been raising alarms the moment it all began.

"Spock, how long until the science department has completed it's scans?"

"Seeing as we obtained orbit 37 minutes ago, the scans should be complete. All that would remain is the release of terrain probes and a possible landing party." 

"Belay both of those. We're continuing forward, effective immediately." Jim rose, followed by the rest of his team. "Spock, I want a full detail of those scans by 1800 hours." He flipped out his communicator. "Kirk to Sulu. Continue on our navigations, warp factor 3." He barely heard Sulu's affirmation before turning to Scotty.

"Make sure the engines are in the pristine shape we want them to be in. As far as we know, those charts are the only things tampered with but I want to be 110% sure." He said with his hands on his friend's shoulders. "You got it, Cap'n." Came the accented reply, topped with half a smile.

All parties had left except for Spock, who lingered behind. Jim took a deep breath. He knew that, in another way, Spock was right. They should gather as much data as they can about this eerie planet and it's atmosphere, perhaps take a search for their mysterious counterpart. But there were too many unknowns and essentially zero knowns. It wasn't logical to take that unnecessary risk. Jim knew that Spock understood that, but the idea of something so fascinating must have excited the Vulcan. 

"Spock..." 

"I understand and respect your decision, Jim. But you must understand this; our leaving this ambiguous being or beings leaves me in a state of...concern." Jim peered at him, unused to such honesty. 

"Concern, Spock? For leaving?"

"Yes. For if we leave a possibly dangerous enemy with no knowledge of them as intelligent life, we are only condemning future explorers who cross paths with them. Perhaps explorers of our own federation." He said this with hardly a change in his usual repertoire, but as Spock walked past his Captain and exited the room, he left a chill that ran all the way down Kirk's spine. 


	3. Breaking a Vulcan

“Sulu to Kirk.”

Kirk exchanged glances with Spock as his communicator chirped. With a sinking feeling, he reached for the device. He and his first officer had just gotten in the turbo lift, prepared to get to the bridge and resume their commands. 

“Go ahead.” 

After a few seconds had passed, Jim thought his heart would jump out of his throat in anticipation. 

“Sir…” Kirk squinted his eyes, hearing that Sulu was having trouble finding the right words. “The warp drive…the entire control board, it’s…not working.” 

Spock’s eyebrow shot up in surprise, and Kirk thought his heart had stopped. After taking a few heavy breaths, he stuffed his rising panic down.

“Not working, Sulu?”

“We’re still in orbit, sir…I attempted to put the ship in warp factor 3 as you asked, but…nothing happened, sir! Not even a connectivity or error message. Everything is frozen up, Captain.” Both Spock and Kirk could hear the astonishment in his voice.

Kirk took a few steps back until he was leaning against the wall. Mechanical errors had happened before, as had problems due to damage. The entire control panel freezing up, however, had never occurred. James Kirk was not stupid; he knew this was no coincidence. His stomach churned.

“Captain.” 

Looking up from stupor, Jim saw Spock had moved from his position by his side to standing directly in front of him. Jim had begun breathing heavily with a few beads of perspiration sitting on his forehead, where Spock stood like a statue with unflinching yet soft eyes.

“It’s them.” Jim said quietly. 

“Yes.” Spock nodded without looking away. They held their gaze as the turbo lift’s door swooshed open. Jim made a move to exit, but Spock gently put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I suspect they will be contacting us, Jim. Please, remember that they have exhibited capabilities we thought physically impossible. Be wary when you speak with them; you are invaluable to this ship.” Kirk released a puff of air and smiled slightly. 

“In other words, ‘be careful and don’t say anything stupid.’” Even through fear, he found himself smiling at the Vulcan, which seemed to happen often. Spock lifted his eyebrows, then nodded.

“That phrasing would be appropriate, yes.”

Both men stepped out from the turbo lift and into the chaos that was the bridge. 

“Sir, communications are down.”

“Captain, the engineering deck reports issues with the-“

“Deck 5 is having malfunctions with the life support functions, Captain.”

Voices from the officers collided while alarms blared, the anxiety of every person in the room meshing together. Kirk tried to focus on what everyone was trying to communicate to him, but the BWAAA BWAAA BWAAA of the alarm was piercing his focus.

“Alright alright, everybody return to your stations immediately and settle down. Someone turn that damned thing off! Keep your heads on and listen to me.” He commanded with authority. Jim Kirk did not buckle under pressure. Spock had been by this man’s side for a long time, and there had never been a time that panic clouded the judgement of James Tiberius Kirk. The crew was losing their minds in confusion and adrenaline, but Kirk stood strong with a clear head. Spock took a few large steps to the engineering panel and fiddled with it until he could mute the sirens. He barely registered the entrance of Doctor McCoy bursting through the door.

“What in blazes is going on, Jim?!” He spat.

“Give me a moment, Bones.” replied Jim. He inhaled deeply and looked around the room, thankful for silence he didn’t know he needed. 

“Alright. I think we’re all probably thinking the same thing, aren’t we? First that ship, then the records, and now it’s our controls. There is intelligent life outside the Enterprise, and they know we’re here. First and foremost, we all need to be grounded. We’ve faced a lot together, all of you, me, and this ship. We can get through this together, too. Understood?” He looked around the bridge, meeting the eyes of his most trusted friends and colleagues. There was no other place he would rather be than on that bridge. 

“Follow my every word.” He stressed.

“Uhura,” he started. “Open all channel frequencies, even the industrial wavelengths. Maybe we can-“

And then a voice.

“Homosapiens.”

Kirk spun around in alarm, and found himself opposite a stranger. It was an alien species, not known by the federation. It was almost humanoid, except it was exceptionally tall and startlingly thin. It’s exterior was black, with rough and uneven scales covering the flesh. The eyes were sunken and haunting. 

“Human beings. And…a Vulcan?” The voice crackled. It was so deep, the vibrations shook the air around them. Lieutenant Uhura felt it’s aura could match the devil’s.

It’s dark head looked to Spock. Spock was mystified. His eyes were wide with wonder, and his mind raced with anticipation of the unknown. The adrenaline he felt during these situations was always unexpected and even more unwelcome. 

“I’m Captain James Kirk. Who are you?” avowed Kirk, wanting to get the attention off his first officer. 

The alien’s image suddenly faulted, appearing and disappearing like static on an old television. A hologram? wondered Kirk.

“James.” It’s voice crackled like molted lava. “You will help me.”

Kirk nodded, patting his chest absentmindedly.

“Sure.” He acknowledged. “Sure, I can try to help you. We’re explorers. We wish to push forward in science and reach out to all beings, and it is my wish to help those who need it. Why do you need my help?”

“Myself and those like me were left for dead on this planet. We wish to leave.” 

“You want a ride?”

“No.” 

The longer Kirk looked at the being, the colder his body felt.

“We are different, James.” It continued. “We can do things that a species like yours could not understand. We understand things you aren’t aware even exist.”

“Why do you need my help?” Kirk repeated with emphasis. It cracked with static. 

“Our way of life is through a crystal.” It said. “A crystal indigenous to a star cluster 200,000 Earth miles from here. You came to us for a reason, James. You will retrieve those crystals.”

Kirk scoffed softly as he sized up the now obvious hologram. 

“Are you asking or demanding?”

“I am not asking.” It said with ice.

McCoy could hear his heart pounding and idly wondered if he was going to have a heart attack. He was a southern doctor with a gifted sense, and he sensed this would not end well. He tried to take in who was in the room, how many of them knew basic medicine, and what he would do if it all went to hell. He prayed to any God that would listen that Kirk could talk them out of this. 

“You say you have a higher awareness of the universe,” ventured Kirk. “yet you treat me and my crew like a freshly won slave. That seems like a mind with limited intelligence, don’t you agree?” 

“Are you telling me you’re refusing?”

“I’ll tell you this. There’s this old Earth saying, been around for centuries. And it’s ‘we don’t negotiate with terrorists.’ I think that speaks for itself.” Kirk was numb with endorphins. He was playing Russian roulette with a monster. 

Spock looked in Kirk’s direction, admiring his captaincy. He was, to the core, a human. He was passionate, determined, and the only person Spock could ever call a friend. 

Suddenly, a wave of ice ran from Spock’s head to his heels, and he lost his breath. The panels behind his feet were bursting nails off as wires snaked out and around Spock’s legs. The monster’s hand was outreached, controlling the situation, and the matter in the air between his hand and Spock himself began morphing into a suffocating restraint. It formed and intertwined with the wires, wrapping around his torso and legs like a shadow with multiple arms. Spock cried out in surprise and pain, as his body was subjected to increasing pressure. 

Kirk felt his heart stop. Only a few hours ago, they saw the ghost of a spaceship. Now a merciless extraterrestrial had his greatest friend wrapped in a death trap, and there was nothing Kirk could do. 

The wires were tightly bound around his legs below the knee, as well as around his torso. He struggled against the force, barely thrashing around to force his hands to move. The pain was piercing. Wires from the panels in the ceiling knocked through and swept down to solidify the hold on his forearms as he was half lifted up in a weightless levitation. Violent waves of agony washed over him, drowning out the sounds of his lungs trying to breath.

“Stop, stop!” cried Kirk. “You’ll kill him!”

“He’s a Vulcan, isn’t he James?” It cackled with baritone. “His body can hold up to this. This is hardly what I can do to him, or to you and your ship.”

With horror, Kirk watched a wire snake out from the tangle and slither up Spock’s throat. The matter emanating from the intruder’s hands flowed from his fingertips to the endeavoring wire, strengthening it as it wrapped around his mouth. The torture magnified, and Spock found himself crying out in torment, only for his shouts to be muffled by the smothering ropes. 

“What do you want?!” yelled Kirk.

The monster lifted his hand and clenched his fist.

“I want those crystals.” It sneered. 

Whatever power the alien possessed increased, and dark spots began to form in the Vulcan’s eye sight. With rising dread, McCoy saw his body slowly stop fighting and his eyes begin to close. 

“Alright! Alright, I’ll get your damned stones, get off him! Let him go!” begged Kirk.

With a lasting moment, the revolutionized matter burst and the wires dropped from his body. Spock dropped like an anvil, his body hitting the ground. Several bridge members cried out his name, but their voices were drowned by the alien’s.

“I have programmed your navigations.” The voice growled. “Your task is simple. Retrieve the crystals, bring them back to me. And you will be free to leave with your lives.”

The second Spock was down, McCoy hopped over the rails and ran to his side. He kneeled next to him and wrapped two fingers around his wrist. He looked up with angry eyes when the monster pointed to the unconscious Vulcan. 

“And remember, James, the second you deviate from your course, your half breed friend with be dead.” He spat the ‘dead’ with such venom, Kirk forgot to breath.   
“I suggest you don’t take your time on this, Captain. And if you still do not return with the crystals after he’s perished, the same thing will happen to your ship. Never fool yourself into thinking you can escape simply because I am on this planet. You will go, you will come back.” 

McCoy’s stomach was in his throat with fury. He first thought the Vulcan was dead, but now he was quietly relieved when he could feel a feeble pulse. His skin was so incredibly pale, the doctor hardly recognized him.

“Deal.” Kirk swallowed, his hands shaking.

The figure straightened it’s harrowing back, and the hologram filtered out until the space was as empty as it was minutes before.

After his mind realized the threat was gone, Kirk leapt across to Spock and McCoy. Sulu and Chekov stayed at their stations, but were standing and looking over in deep concern. Uhura had her mouth covered, praying the Vulcan she looked up to wasn’t dead.

“Bones…” Kirk started.

“He’s alive,” his statement was met with a collective sigh of relief, “but he’s weak. I’ve never seen a Vulcan like this before.” 

“What do I do?” whispered the Captain. 

McCoy shook his head, his eyes on Spock’s still form. 

“I don’t know, Jim.” He said honestly. “I don’t know what we’ve gotten ourselves into. But Spock is on the brink of crossing over, and I need to get him to sickbay right now.” 

Kirk nodded, and they both wrapped a Vulcan arm around their shoulders and stood. He was so still and limp, Kirk had to fight off images of him being buried. After they found a solid stance, Kirk looked to Sulu with meaning. 

“The controls, Sulu?”

The helmsman turned to his controls and found them functional. After informing his Captain of the update, he sat in his chair ready to helm. 

“Warp factor 6 Sulu, to, wherever the computer tells us to go. Comms, Uhura?”

“All functional, Captain.” She said softly. She watched the three of them enter the turbo lift; the somewhat shaking figure of her drained captain, the red faced and heavy breathing figure of the doctor, and the unmoving, almost dead body of Commander Spock.


	4. Biobed 4C

Nurse Chapel thanked the stars for the slow day in sick bay. McCoy had skirted out of the room 15 minutes ago to find the Captain - his communicator wasn’t working, and many of the biobeds had technical failures. Thankfully, they were back online a few minutes ago.

 

The ship wide alarms had silenced, and she found herself rearranging some of the hypos. The door swooshed open behind her, and although she expected to hear the doctor’s voice, she didn’t expect it like this.

 

“CHAPEL! Get biobed 4C ready for Spock, quick!” 

 

She spun around and saw what she thought she’d never see. Spock, half a Vulcan, looking ghostly pale and hardly alive. She felt her breath hitch at the sight. Christine had stubbornly resilient feelings towards him; she had since they set off on their five year mission. Though she never wished to see anyone in this state, she could detach her humanity from it so she could focus. However, it was Spock, and she found herself scared for his life. 

 

She darted for the biobed and customized it for a half Vulcan/half human. She tried not to notice how Spock’s feet dragged behind him as the two men carried him across the room.

 

“What happened?” She said with wide eyes as they lifted him.

 

“He was…look, I’m not sure yet. Give him a shot of hydrocortisone until I can get a read on his vitals.” His voice cracked with strain, finally laying Spock’s cold head down. 

 

“Hydrocortisone…?” She mumbled in confusion. The Vulcan looked like he needed a lot more than hydrocortisone.

 

“NOW, Christine!” He shouted back. She jumped and ran for the cupboards. 

 

McCoy waved his medical reader over Spock’s body, glancing up at the screen to read it’s findings. The results were confusing and inconsistent, causing him to furrow his brow and his anger to grow.

 

“What is it, Bones? Is he alright?” Kirk asked hurriedly, uneasy about the expression his friend was giving. 

 

“Go back to the bridge, Jim. We’ve got Spock.” He replied without taking his eyes off the screen. Chapel ran back over and applied the hypo.

 

“Go back to the…? McCoy, my first officer-!”

 

“Something pretty fucked up just happened up there, Jim! And this ship needs you! We’re sailing God knows where, Spock was just put on display for crucification, and your crew has no idea what’s happening! He’s alive. Your new friend apparently wants him alive in case he needs to kill him later,” Chapel grew paler with every sentence. Snatching up another hypo, McCoy took a deep breath. “and we’re lightyears away from the federation. Get back up there, Jim.” He finished gently.

 

Kirk swallowed hard and looked at Spock. He felt sick. Images of his friend’s muffled screams flashed in his mind. He didn’t want to leave him. He put his hand on Spock’s arm and squeezed before looking into the blue eyes of the doctor. 

 

“You’re right.” His voice seemed so far away. “Please, let me know if…something happens. I’ll be on the bridge.” 

 

With a lasting look to Spock, he left.

 

Spock’s vitals continued to fluctuate throughout the night, though they never dipped below a deeply concerning line. After more tests and observations, McCoy concluded that he had no idea what happened to Spock. There was no lasting damage, but his body was in shock and highly weakened. Halfway through the night, he surmised that it was just unadulterated pain that would have killed Spock. 

 

_Can I even call this shit 'night' anymore? Why do we do that? There's no sun out here in this God forsaken vacuum._  He thought grimly.

 

He pulled up a chair and positioned it near the still unconscious Spock. It was 2200 hours shiptime. After seeing the pigmentation of Spock’s skin hardly improve, he decided he felt very uncomfortable leaving him unobserved. He could have an overnight staff do so, it was an easy enough task…but…he wasn’t comfortable with that either. Besides, he was to filled with anger to sleep.

 

Seeing Spock, of all people, held captive by unknown forces and shown Hell firsthand was one of the worst things McCoy ever witnessed. The hopeless feeling he had was suffocating as he watched the life drain from the Vulcan’s brown eyes. Rage filled him when his body hit the ground. 

 

He rubbed his tired eyes with one hand as he recounted the memory. He put his hand back in his lap and looked at Spock in the low light. The movement of his breathing chest was relieving. Hours ago, his breathing was erratic and uneven. Now it had calmed into a slow rise and fall. 

 

As a doctor, the entire ordeal was frustrating beyond the obvious fact that Spock was almost killed. Frustrating because there was hardly anything McCoy could do to help Spock recover. Only sit and wait for him to wake. 


	5. The Ship That Needed Coffee

On the bridge, Kirk sat anxiously in his chair. His leg methodically bounced up and down, up and down, up and down. 

The situation was dire, to say the least. They were on their way to a star cluster well off course from their original orders, and they were down a first officer. He breathed a heavy sigh and looked around the room. Everyone was shaken from what happened to Spock. His stubbornness, intellect, and subtle sarcasm caused him to be something of a favorite on the ship, and his near murder caused everyone’s skin to grow cold.

Uhura devised a resting chart years ago in the event that the bridge needed to be fully manned at all hours, and it was currently getting it’s use. Chekov and Uhura were in the middle of their 4 hour sleep rotations. Kirk and Sulu were up next when they returned, but Kirk knew there was no way he could leave his post. His ship needed him awake and in that chair. That, and he couldn’t sleep until he saw Spock lucid and alive. 

“Sulu.” Kirk’s voice was gravelly, but strong. “I’ll need a full report of the ship’s events. Get Scotty’s statement on the malfunction of the engines and the control boards. Uhura will chart out the timeline of events, and I’ll get McCoy’s report on Spock.” Even though they were in the midst of something completely foreign to the federation, he’ll be damned if he didn’t send a detailed report back home. If anything happened to them, Kirk wanted to be sure they knew what was out here. Spock was right, hours ago. They couldn’t condemn future explorers from the petrifying discovery they’d made.

“Yes, sir.” Sulu had rotated in his seat to face the Captain. He looked tired. Kirk quietly was grateful the helmsman was next up to rest. 

Jim rose from his chair and made for the exit. 

“I need coffee.” he said wearily. “Anyone else?” Sulu lifted the corner of his mouth in a smile. 

“I’ll take you up on that, Captain.” he said. “Black, like the soul of the universe.” Considering the last day’s events, it was a fitting observation.

Jim gave a small, earnest chuckle. 

“I’ll get that for you if you cut the drama.” He smiled back. 

“You got it, boss.” 

Jim stepped into the turbo lift, lifting his hand to the controls. As the door closed, he found that his hand was still hovering over the buttons. He dropped it to his side as he once again recalled being there a lifetime ago with his first officer, and what his first officer had said before meeting that monster. 

“‘Be careful.’” He mumbled quietly to himself. He let a puff of air out through his nose and allowed his heart to take over his head for a moment. As Captain, he was always on display; he was the face of the Enterprise, after all. Here, though, in this turbo lift, he was alone. He leaned against the wall, his hand on the railing. He didn’t want to break down, he didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to lose control of himself. He just wanted to lean against that wall and breath for a second. So, he did, until he felt ready to open his eyes and get Sulu his well deserved coffee.

———

McCoy closed the book he tried reading and tossed it aside. He was exhausted, but his mind was reeling. He was worried for Spock, but he was also worried for the ship. Did Jim have a plan? Is he really going to free these beings from that planet, and be responsible for any death or destruction they cause? He rubbed his eyes and put his head in his hands. He wondered how they were going to get out of this one. 

A small, quiet rustle caused him to look up. Spock’s head moved slightly to the side as an even quieter groan escaped his throat. 

“Spock!” McCoy practically tripped standing up from his chair. “Spock.”

He put a hand on his shoulder and looked him over. He was still pale, but the ghastly tone of his skin had gone. Glancing up at the monitor, he saw his vitals showed some improvement as well. 

“Can you hear me, Spock?” He asked quietly. 

The Vulcan’s eyes blinked slowly open. McCoy heard him inhale deeper than his former methodic, unconscious breathing. To McCoy’s surprise, he began to push himself off his elbows and sit up until the doctor reached out and pushed him back down. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, knowing Spock probably wouldn’t answer. “Everything is fine, the ship and the captain, all fine. You should probably rest more.”

He assumed a subconscious part of Spock needed to see the ship and her crew in one piece before subjecting to sleep. Perhaps he was right, for Spock loosened his muscles and sunk back into the bed. There was no fight as his eyes closed again. 

McCoy inhaled deeply. He jumped a bit at the sudden appearance of his nurse.

“Christ! Chapel, what are you doing here?”

“It’s 0800, Doctor.” She said uneasily, looking at him with slight concern.

“It is…?” He blinked a few times and looked down. 

“Perhaps I should take over, Leonard. Go sleep.” Although she rarely admitted it, she greatly admired the Chief Medical Officer. He was a true man with a big heart, something somewhat uncommon out in the wide unknown.

“He just woke up for a few seconds…I probably shouldn’t leave him yet.” He decided. Sleep sounded highly enticing, but flashes of Spock falling limp to the floor kept his eyes wide open. 

She smiled to herself. She had her own personal attachments to the first officer, but in spite of what McCoy (constantly) says, he too was fond of the Vulcan. Chapel skirted a chair opposite her superior. He looked at her with heavy bags under his eyes. 

“What happened, Leonard?” She asked gently. He sighed.

“You got the Captain’s ship wide report, we were invaded by something akin to the Devil himself and now we have no choice but to do as it wants us to do.” He answered with contempt. 

“The Captain’s report didn’t specify what happened to Spock.”

“I already told you, I don’t know what really happened to Spock.” He said wearily. “That…thing, it was killing him. It wasn’t touching him, but it’s hand was up and it was killing him.” His heart pounded painfully in his chest. He knew the anger he felt towards the situation would linger for a long time to come.

“Why? Why specifically Spock?” She prodded. Why is she so desperate to know? He thought. Although he had to admit, he wondered the same thing.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “Maybe it just picked him because he was different. But it knew he was a Vulcan. It knew what Vulcans were. I’d say maybe it’s race has somethin’ against Vulcans, but hell, we’re so far from anything civilized, I don’t know that that race ever interacted with Vulcans, or humans for that matter!”

“If it was stranded on that planet, maybe they’re not from this galaxy.” She surmised. He chewed his lip…he hadn’t thought of that. 

“Well, whatever. Obviously they were stranded there for a reason…I can’t imagine why.” He said dryly. He was rubbing his eyes again. Chapel looked at his tired figure, then to Spock’s still one. The Vulcan looked better than he did being dragged in the night before.

“The Captain said it was a hologram.” She offered. He was always so great at that, she suddenly realized. The Captain always had purposeful, open communication with the ship. 

“Definitely.” confirmed McCoy. “It even shorted out a few times.” He laughed. 

“Isn’t that ridiculous, Christine? Christ. A hologram, for the love of God, telekinetically half killed Spock, and now we’re taking orders from it. I mean, what the hell? What…in the hell? What are we doing out here? There’s so, so much we just don’t understand yet.” He massaged his temples, his shoulders sinking. “Maybe humanity isn’t ready for this.” Her heart sunk a bit. She leaned forward and put her hand on his knee.

“Go sleep, Leonard. I’ve got this. I’ll call for you when he’s awake.” He nodded silently. Perhaps that was a good idea. After the good doctor left, she stood and began to tidy up the area. She picked up McCoy’s discarded book, glancing it over. ‘Brave New World’ by Aldous Huxley. She bit her lip as she placed it on the shelf.

McCoy felt empty as he walked down the corridor. His body was heavy, and his mind was groggy with exhaustion. He thought back to how the night went - not a single movement from Spock. But, hours later, he did wake up. That’s all he needed, McCoy decided. He woke up once, that means he’s gonna wake up again and he’ll be fine. That was good enough. 

He passed a few crew members on his way to his quarters. His eyes roamed over their faces, subconsciously noting how they all looked a bit fatigued. 

“Bones!” yelled a familiar voice. McCoy turned around and saw Jim walking towards him. 

“Bones…how, uh. Is he…?”

“He woke up for a few seconds this morning. I think he’ll be alright, Jim.” He could see the relief in Kirk’s eyes. They were silent for a few moments.

“You alright?” Jim asked.

“Tired, like the rest of us. Chapel’s taking over.” He explained. Kirk nodded, realizing McCoy saw the entire night as had Kirk himself. 

“Coffee, Jim? Is that a good idea for your heart at a time like this?” Teased McCoy tiredly, nodding to the two cups of joe. 

“I think I can justify myself a cup of coffee, doc. One of ‘em is for Sulu.”

“Make sure you sleep sometime today, Jim.” 

“I will.” The doctor gave him a look. “No, really, Bones, I will! I’m no good to the ship dead on my feet.” He was being honest. He knew he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, but, he would try.

“Right.” He looked his Captain over. “Is there a plan, Jim?” He asked bluntly.

Kirk didn’t need him to clarify. He looked down at his feet.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. McCoy sighed. 

“You’re only one person, Jim. No one expects you to get us out of this.” Kirk looked up at him with dismal eyes. “We’ve got a few days, we can try and come up with something together.” The doctor smiled at his friend. As much as he wished Kirk could snap his fingers and fix everything, he also knew that was impossible. 

“Just tell me we’re not gonna do what this guy tells us to do and then leave like nothing happened.” He didn’t expect Kirk to save the day, but he needed to know he still had his head on straight. 

“I don’t know what we’re gonna do yet, Bones. But we’re gonna do something.” He said defiantly. “This isn’t going to go down like it wants it to.” 

McCoy nodded with a growing smile. 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He grasped Jim’s shoulders and gave him an encouraging shake. Releasing, he turned and continued to his quarters, vehemently excited for his bed.


	6. Everyone Has Sentiments

His stomach was churning with hunger, and he almost felt nauseous. Sulu groaned and scratched his head.

 

“I’m getting something to eat.” He said to Chekhov as he stood. He’d returned from his sleep rotation a few hours ago, but he hadn’t eaten since hours before that. He’d been paying meticulous attention to the navigations. As that creature promised, the computer had their destination mapped in the ship…it was Sulu’s job to get them there.

 

“Do me a favor and keep an eye on it? We’re set to just stay at a 20 degree angle from the face of ULAS J0015, warp factor 6.” He asked.

 

Chekhov smiled at him and nodded. Sulu smiled back genuinely and walked to the lift. He liked Chekhov, a lot actually. He was a sweet kid, and astonishingly smart. Sometimes he had a lot to say, and sometimes he didn’t have anything to say at all. Sulu appreciated that. 

 

His chest suddenly felt heavy at the thought of Chekhov never reaching his full potential. If something happened that prevented that from becoming reality…something like, well, an alien species destroying them because they’re capable of doing so with a stroke of a hand. He pushed the thoughts away before his imagination got out of control.

 

He finally reached the chow hall, deciding on a soup and sandwich; keep things light. His stomach growled angrily when he sat down. As he raised the sandwich to his mouth, he watched Scotty tread into the room. He waved when the engineer spotted him. 

 

“Sulu, ol’ friend. How’re things holding up bridge-side?” He asked with a smile, taking a chair. Damn that Scottsman - he always had a smile and laugh nearby.

 

“A bit downcast, but we’re holding up.” He said as he took a bite. “Engineering?” 

 

“Aw, fine, laddie. How’s the Captain?” He asked sincerely. He worried for his captain…he took too much upon himself. Sulu chuckled.

 

“Only God knows, Scotty. He can be a brick wall when he wants to be. Under a lot of stress, I’m sure.” Scotty smiled a bit in response. 

 

“And the Commander?” There was a small shade of hope laced in the question. Sulu shook his head.

 

“I dunno.” He sighed heavily. “Uh…” He was going to continue his sentence, comment on what happened to Spock. But then he got lost in the memory of it. He shivered. Scotty picked up on sudden change in the air and slyly changed the subject.

 

“You just had an Angurian jade flower bloom, didn’t ya? I heard about it in the rec room, one o’ the younger botanists was pissin’ himself in excitement talkin’ about it the other day.” 

 

Sulu looked up at him and smiled. The thought of his plants lifted his spirits, just slightly. Again, just, damn that Scottsman. 

 

“Yeah, I did. First one off planet, actually. Sent an official record of it to Starfleet not too long ago.” He released a dark chuckle.

 

“Ohh, damn this place, huh, Scotty? One day your rare flower is making history, the next…” He waved his hand in the air.

 

“We’re gonna make it, laddie. We always do.” He urged. Sulu shook his head for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

 

“I don’t see how. Let’s say we do what this thing wants us to do…basically, free them from that planet and let them have the liberty to do whatever they want. With all that power. I mean, how do we even know they’ll just let us go after that? And if they do let us go…we’re gonna have to ask ourselves, 

‘what have we done?’”

 

“It’s not gonna go down like that, Sulu. I know the Captain won’t give in to that…his will is made too much of iron to be so obedient.”

 

Sulu exhaled with frustration. “Then Spock dies. We all die.” He admonished. Scotty leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

 

“Assuming they’re not bluffin.”

 

“What?”

 

“They could be bluffin’, takin’ a piss, ya know? I thank the universe I wasn’t there to witness what happened to dear Spock, but whatever they’re capable of…well, who’s to say it’s got an infinite range?”

 

“Who’s to say it doesn’t?” He responded, somewhat bewildered. What’s Scotty saying here?

 

“That mess the alien displayed up there, it’s got to have a line, don’t you think? Why else would they need someone else’s help, an ‘inferior’ species’ help to escape, when they can do all that?” He added, becoming more vehement. Alright, Sulu had to bite. 

 

“Scotty…what are you trying to say?” 

 

————

 

Chapel stood in front of Spock’s monitor, writing down his progress on a notepad. She liked using a pencil and paper…it helped her to think in a different way. There was an admittedly illogical part of her that hoped she could see a pattern explaining Spock’s condition.

 

She heard a sharp inhale to her right, and turned to see Spock open his eyes. The pencil in her hand lowered as her arm dropped to her side. His eyes seemed foggy, hazy. He blinked through darkness, images of sickbay and noises of a nurse slowly harassing his senses.

 

“Mister Spock?” She tried. “Can you hear me?”

 

He swallowed, and barely nodded his head. 

 

“Are you in any pain?” There was a list of certain questions to ask when a patient first woke, and she was supposed to be objective about it. It was a little more complicated with him. 

 

He didn’t answer right away, possibly trying to become more aware of himself to answer the question. 

 

“No.” . Despite how foreign his voice seemed, he was speaking. She took that positively. He moved his head to look at her…she seemed familiar…

 

“Chapel…?”

 

She nodded her head.

 

“Yes.”

 

He inhaled sharply again and raised himself to one elbow, clearly attempting to breach his prone position. She lifted her arm to him in protest.

 

“No, your body is still very weak, Commander. Let me call Doctor McCoy.” She gently applied pressure to his shoulder to lay him down, but he resisted.

 

“I need to speak with the Captain.” His voice was gravelly and hoarse. It was unsettling when she was so used to his strong and confident one.

 

“Alright, I can call him too, just take it easy, Commander.”

 

His head hit the pillow as she successfully halted his attempt. As she swiftly retrieved her communicator, she noted how his breathing seemed slightly more labored. He clenched his jaw at his situation.

 

“Chapel to McCoy.”

 

Back in his quarters, McCoy had just given up on sleeping any longer. It had been a few hours, which he figured was good enough. He heard his communicator chirp as he finished tucking in his undershirt. He fished it out from his pant’s pocket. 

 

“Go ahead.” There was only one reason she would be calling him right now. Well, two, but he decided he didn’t like the other reason. It was because that green-blooded troll was awake, and nothing else. 

 

“He’s awake, Doctor,” He nodded his head as she confirmed his theory. “He wants to see the Captain.” 

 

McCoy couldn’t help himself as he chuckled. Of course he wanted to see Jim.

 

“I’m sure he does. I’m on my over. McCoy out.” He flipped it close and stuffed it back in his pants. As quickly as he’d ever done it before, he threw on his work shirt and shoved his feet into his boots. The quicker he got there the better; Spock was a terrible patient. 

 

As he sauntered into sickbay, he was surprised to see it so empty. Even on an average day, there’d be a few crew members with the flu or something. He supposed something about a ship-wide state of emergency made everyone jump out of their panties and stay out and away from the doc. He walked over to the adjacent room with Spock and Chapel.

 

As he passed the entryway, he silently noted what he noticed about Spock’s features. Eyes open, finally. Pale, but unconcerning skin. Clenched jaw. Oh, there it was. The clenched jaw. He did it every time he was in this room, even for a routine check up. McCoy smiled in spite of himself.

 

“Spock.” He acknowledged. He breathed a subconscious sigh of relief at seeing the Vulcan awake.

 

“Doctor, I believe I’m fit for duty effective immediately,” He started as he slowly sat up (to the dismay of Chapel). “It was, it was temporary and I’d prefer to be released.” He finished, dodging specifics. McCoy, unbudging, noticed the atypical stammer. He also noted how grating his voice sounded. Nope. 

 

“Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” He said without betraying his demeanor. “If you can cooperate with me, we might be able to get you outta here.” That was a lie. Spock wasn’t going anywhere. But, McCoy did need him to comply to his questions, so he really didn’t feel so bad about it. 

 

Spock sighed and straightened his back. It was his way of telling McCoy he was ready for his interrogation. 

 

“I’m sure Chapel already asked you, but I’m gonna ask you again…are you in any pain?”

 

“No.”

 

McCoy outstretched his hand towards Chapel, who plopped the medical scanner into his palm. He waved it in front of Spock, taking in his readings. One in particular caught his attention. 

 

“You got a headache, Spock?” He asked expectantly. He knew how to play this game, too. Spock opened his mouth, but McCoy cut in anyway.

 

“See, now,” He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “This is the kind of thing you gotta tell me, Spock. I ask you, ‘are you in any pain?’ You say, ‘You know what, Doctor McCoy, I have a headache. That’s something you should probably know.’” 

 

Spock sighed again and looked to the ceiling. It was a habit Chapel noticed he did in more annoying situations. His eyes migrated from the tile to McCoy.

 

“It was not something that I-“ 

 

“I’ll tell you if it’s concerning or not, Spock. I’m the doctor here.” He was admittedly frustrated with the stubborn fool, but the relief at his counterpart’s beating heart won out. He sucked in a breath of air and turned to his loyal nurse.

 

“Do me a favor and go get the Captain, Christine.” He said. She nodded knowingly and left. 

 

“Is there an issue with communications-?”

 

“No, no, everything is tip top.” McCoy scooted his chair next to Spock’s bed, despite the skeptical expression the other man gave him. He folded his hands in his lap.

 

“Do you remember?” He asked. Spock gave his signature head tilt; an effective mask he often deployed. He looked away and kept his eyes forward and on the wall.

 

“I believe so, yes.” He answered flatly. McCoy roamed his eyes over the man’s face, trying to get a read on him. He wanted to ask him if he was alright, as he normally did with his patients, but it was futile with this one. He leaned back in his chair.

 

“Good, good. Well, uh,” he scratched his head, still baffled by Spock’s readings. “Somehow there isn’t a single trace of what happened to you except, ya know, a headache,” Spock almost rolled his eyes. “and you look and sound like shit.” Spock opened his mouth, then closed it. McCoy raised his eyebrows, wondering if he finally rendered the Vulcan speechless, but of course that wasn’t that case.

 

“Then you can clear me to-“

 

“I’m not releasin’ ya yet, Spock.” He said frankly. He saw Spock let out a small huff of breath, clearly agitated at the situation. _Emotionless, my ass._

 

 

“Well, you know what happened to you. Do you know what that fu…” He had to bite his tongue. “What the alien said? While you were…?” Spock’s face softened while he thought back to it. He remembered white blindness. He shook his head.

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

McCoy swallowed, beginning to really not like the conversation. 

 

“Well, uh, we…we agreed to it’s terms. It threatened you and the ship otherwise.” Spock furrowed his brow and his eyes widened slightly. 

 

“We’ve been hauling ass for about 14 hours now. Still have another day before we even get there. Then there’s comin’ back.” He peered at the Vulcan, who was shaking his head to himself. 

 

“Something on your mind?” He asked. 

 

“We’re making a mistake.” 

 

McCoy didn’t get a chance to even open his mouth, for the Captain practically ran through the door with the nurse tailing behind him. 

 

“Spock!” He smiled with his arms half raised as he walked towards them. “Spock.” He was still smiling, but his face couldn’t hide his concern. 

 

“You alright?” He asked, standing next to McCoy and his chair. Spock nodded.

 

“Yes Captain. I was attempting to translate that to Doctor McCoy, but he effectively ignored me.”

 

Kirk gave half a chuckle, his hands on his hips. God, he couldn’t believe how relieved he felt. He couldn’t count the times that Spock wanted out of sickbay and McCoy wouldn’t let him. It was comfortingly familiar. He looked down to McCoy’s sitting position and put his hand on his shoulder, holding it tightly. _Thank you._

 

“Spock, with all due respect, you did just wake up.” He said to him.

 

“The doctor’s lawless instruments can cite me when I say that I am alright. And I am, Captain.” Kirk shook his head at his stubbornness. 

 

“Doc?”

 

“I don’t feel comfortable releasing him, Jim.” He shrugged his shoulders. Spock’s vitals were officially back to normal, somehow. But, still; no. Jim gave Spock a look, expecting him to accept it, but his good mood was shaken when he read Spock’s eyes. The Vulcan had a deep look of intensity, and there was a determination and passion behind them. He was staring right into Kirk. It was almost startling, and an absolute outlier compared to the rest of his weakened body. He needed to talk to him about something, Kirk knew. Now.

 

“You think you’re able bodied enough, Spock?” He asked, reciprocating the stare. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was what Spock needed to say to him. McCoy threw his hands over his head dramatically and looked to Christine, wondering if he was the only sane person in the room.

 

“Did you not hear what I just said, Jim?!” 

 

Kirk ignored him, waiting for Spock’s answer.

 

“Yes, Jim.” Spock stressed. Kirk stared at him for a few more moments, wondering if Spock was well enough to know what was good for him. He finally nodded and looked at McCoy, who’s mouth was wide open and arms turned outwards in frozen shock. 

 

“A few hours, Bones, maybe. I’ll bring him back and you can do what you need to do, and we’ll go from there.” He said sympathetically. “Alright?”

 

McCoy scoffed hard and looked between Kirk and Spock.

 

“Well, do I even have a choice? Fine, get outta here.” He stood and threw the wall closet door open. He gestured to the hanging uniform and threw his hand behind him as he walked away. “There ya go. Damned good for nothing bastards…IF HE FALLS AND BREAKS HIS NECK ITS ON YOU, JIM.” He threw over his shoulder, already out of the room. Chapel smiled at the ground at her CMO’s temper and followed him out. 

 

Jim sighed and looked back to Spock, who was, unsurprisingly, trying to stand up. 

 

“Easy, easy.” He walked over and stood to the side of the bed, ready to catch the Vulcan if he fell. 

 

As Spock slowly put his legs down to the floor, he felt a weakness in his muscles he’d never felt before. It was absolutely disagreeable. He was both grateful and humiliated that the Captain was spotting his movements. Sitting with his legs over the bed, he blinked as he looked at his sickbay livery…a loose white shirt and comfortable black pants. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly thought back to an Earth civilization course he’d taken when he was younger. The hospitals centuries ago assigned patients an awkward and displeasing dressing gown, absolutely mandatory. He quietly thanked advancement, as there would be no injury or illness that could make him wear such a thing.

 

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice asked him nearby. Spock snapped out of his memory, and nodded his head.

 

“Yes, Captain.” 

 

He braced his arm on the bed as he stood, still somewhat shocked at the fatigue. He straightened up, attempting to hide his weakness from his Captain.

 

“Conference room down the hall?” Kirk offered. 

 

“That would be sufficient, yes.” 

 

Kirk smiled and nodded. “Alright, I’m gonna talk to Bones in his office. Change and we’ll go.” He turned to leave, but his peripherals caught a small shiver move through Spock. He pivoted around just in time as Spock’s knees gave out and he pitched towards the floor. He practically lunged as he snatched up his arms and braced him from falling. His friends skin felt so cold.

 

“You alright?” He asked with no attempt to mask his surprise or concern.

 

Spock tensed and let go of his grip on Kirk.

 

“Yes, I apologize, Captain, I wasn’t expecting to…” He trailed off. A few of Kirk’s heartstrings tugged. Wasn’t expecting to…fall? To feel so weak? Although Spock let go, Kirk held onto him for a few more moments until he was convinced he could stand.

 

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve had it pretty rough. It’s normal. Just don’t break your neck, or I won’t hear the end of it.” He gave him a small smile, hoping he spared Spock from feeling too embarrassed. Spock simply nodded.

 

Kirk stepped away and gave him a quick once over, hoping he was making the right choice. With a final affirmation from Spock that he was capable, Jim stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. A part of him knew what Spock wanted to speak to him about; he was going to attempt to convince him to advert their foolish, vacuous mission. But it wasn’t that simple…there just was no way Kirk could put Spock’s life on the line again. 


	7. The Needs of the Many

“I don’t necessarily want him out of sickbay either, Bones. But you said it yourself, his vitals are normal.”

“Listen, Jim. You can take him gallivanting around the ship for a few hours, and then you bring his ass straight back here. If he still seems weak by that time, I won’t make him stay here, but he’ll be confined to his quarters. Done, the end.” He said dismissively. He turned so his chair was back into his desk, but almost immediately spun back around. “And I swear to Christ almighty, if it comes to that and I hear any lip from either of you, I will turn into a pile of dust and leave Matney in charge.” 

Kirk grimaced. Matney was an idiot.

“Alright alright alright alright alright.” Kirk rolled his eyes and looked to his friend. He gave a small sigh. “Look, Bones…I…just,” He puffed out a breath of air. “Thank you.”

Kirk thought he heard McCoy laugh, but it was so quiet he couldn’t be sure. “I didn’t do anything, Jim. After that piece of shit let go of him, he wasn’t in any danger.” McCoy decided he was done with the conversation. The doctor pivoted in his seat so he was looking to his shelf, about to put a file away, but Jim stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He tugged so McCoy was facing him. 

“You looked after my first officer when I couldn’t.” He said quietly with fervent, his eyes looking into McCoy’s. He needed his friend to understand what it meant to him. McCoy nodded, not sure what to say. Kirk reciprocated the nod, and left the doctor’s office. 

To his surprise, Spock was on the other side of the room, speaking with Chapel. He had donned his rightful Starfleet Uniform, his rank perfectly positioned as it always was. He almost looked normal, as if nothing had happened. If it wasn’t for that earlier lapse in strength or his slightly paled skin, Kirk would’ve sworn that the incident hadn’t affected the Vulcan at all. The office door closed behind him, and Spock looked over. He departed from Chapel and walked across the room. Jim idly wondered how much concentration he was using to appear normal. 

“You ready?” He asked him, a question of his well being lined within the words. Spock nodded, and together they left the sickbay. 

Spock tried to ignore the stares of the crew members they’d passed. Only the bridge witnessed what had happened to him, so naturally, the entire ship knew. He kept his eyes forward, willing his muscles to perform without error. He was never conscious of how many components there were to walking until he had to pay full attention to them. 

A small wave of relief washed over him when they finally reached the empty conference room. The doors swooshed closed, and it was once again only him and the Captain. He wouldn’t let it show on his features, but their small walk down the corridor had been very tiring. 

The walls were lined with star maps, pictures of various ships, and the flags of all Federation planets. It was a smaller conference room, usually used for morning roll call and department meetings. They sat at the wooden table.

“Alright,” Kirk began. “before you say anything, I need to tell you-“

“Doctor McCoy has already informed me of our situation, Captain.”

“No, no, not that - I mean, yes, I’ll get to that, but,” He unfolded his hands and put his palms on his knees. Spock looked at him quizzically. Kirk inhaled deeply, feeling the comfort in Spock’s presence. 

“I’m just so very, very glad you are alive, Spock.” He admitted. He knew how Vulcans were with emotional statements, so they were almost never exchanged between the two of them. But after what he watched up on that bridge hours ago, he couldn’t help himself. Unbeknownst to Kirk, Spock felt the same, but for Jim and the ship. While he was wrapped in the pain and in the grip of the monster, Spock had desperately hoped Jim could escape after he had been killed. 

“Captain, we cannot harvest those crystals.” 

Kirk hung his head for a second; he wasn’t sure what he expected. He sighed. 

“Spock, I’m…I don’t know exactly what the plan is yet. But-“

“It would be suicide on the Enterprise and a disservice to this galaxy. Perhaps more than this galaxy.” He pressed.

“Yes, I know, but I’m not going to simply turn the ship around and start back where we left off as if nothing happened.”

“It would be morally against who we are as explorers and beings to release that species.” 

“Spock, it promised against your life, and the entire ship’s, if we don’t.” 

“Perhaps that is a trade we must take.” 

Kirk stared at him. Spock sometimes offered suggestions not widely accepted by most other officers, but this was mad. 

“You’re saying we let them take the Enterprise? And all 400 men and women aboard her? Spock, you know what they’re capable of-“

“Captain Kirk, I know exactly what they’re capable of.” He retorted, a hint of fire and ice behind his voice. It was piercing enough to catch Kirk off guard, and he stopped mid-sentence with his mouth partially open. 

“And that is why I cannot allow them to have the freedom to leave. I could not live peacefully knowing that they would do to civilizations what they had done to me.” He finished, his voice growing slightly quieter. Kirk was somewhat astonished. His skin crawled as he imagined the torment his friend must have encountered. 

He sat back in his chair and looked to the wall, his eyes seeing something else than the star maps in front of him. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to come out on top of this. 

“To be honest, Spock, I’m…I’m at a loss of what to do. I’m _not_ doing what you just suggested,” He put a hand up when Spock opened his mouth to protest. “and I’m also not going to just obey our current ‘orders.’” 

He put his head in his hand, his elbow resting on the wood. God, he was so tired. He hadn’t slept for so long. What he would do for a long, secluded hike in the forests of Earth. He nodded his head in his hand; yes, when this entire mission was over and they returned home, that’s the first thing he wanted to do. 

Spock could see the exhaustion in his friend, and could feel his own pumping through his body. He wanted to tell Jim to go sleep, and rest. But this problem was bigger than their own.

“I’m gathering that the alien threatened me first, should we abandon it’s demands. As a warning. And should we continue our rebellion, the ship would come next.” 

Kirk’s eyes were closed, his head still in his hand. He nodded. 

“Scott to Kirk.” buzzed the communicator. Kirk opened his eyes. Alone with Spock, he could allow himself a level of vulnerability. But not with his ship.

“Go ahead.” he answered. 

“Sir, I’d like to speak with ya. It’s urgent. It’s about our situation.” Kirk and Spock exchanged glances, both curious to what he had to say about the hopeless predicament. 

“You have news regarding it?”

“Not entirely, sir. Simply a theory. I cannae tell ya over the communicator.” Came the reply. Kirk looked to Spock, who nodded his approval. 

“Conference room 13Beta. Kirk out.” 

It wasn’t long before both the engineer and the helmsman skirted into the room. Kirk wanted to be surprised at Sulu’s presence, but he and the engineer were thick as thieves and honestly it wasn’t such a shocker.

“Gentlemen. What’s this all about then?” He wanted to know, right now, why the Scottish man so urgently wanted to speak with him. Scotty had come in, guns blazing, ready to give his insight to the Captain. But the presence of Spock shocked both of the men, and a smile spread upon Scotty’s face. 

“Commander Spock! Glad you’re straight ways up, sir, we’d be lost without ya for another day.” He said through the smile. Spock nodded, his eyes conveying his gratitude. Jim couldn’t help but smile a bit too; damn that Scottsman. 

“Come on then, gents, time’s a factor here.” He pressed. The men took their seats, and Scotty leaned towards the Captain. 

“Captain, I think we ought to consider the limits of these bein’s.”

“Explain.”

“Well, based off your report and what Sulu here’s been tellin’ me, I’m figuring these devils have gotta have a line with those powers o’ theirs. Take that ship, for example. What’s that all about, then? I mean, I think we can all naturally agree it was connected to these devils.” 

“Naturally.”

“Right. See, here’s what I’ve been stewin’ on. The alien was a hologram, Captain, for it cannae leave the planet. It noticed us, out in the distance, before we reached that planet. It wanted our attention.”

“Go on.”

“Well so it lures us in! With a hologram of a ship!”

His statement echoed in the room. Spock sat back and looked at the engineer. It was brilliantly…logical. Kirk sat forward and rested his chin in his palm.

“I think I see where you’re going with this…”

“Captain, _Jim_ , if they needed to use a hologram to lure us in, that’s got to mean something! They needed us within a certain range to do what they did! Not to mention, if they had such a range as they advertised, why didn’t they manipulate us from where we were when they spotted us? I’ll bet my bottom dollar it’s because they couldn’t. They needed us in orbit to telekinetically reach us.” He articulated. “They’re bluffin’, Jim!”

Hope began to rise in Kirk’s bloodstream, but he staunched it almost immediately. He needed more information before letting his head get too big.  

“It was able to manipulate the ship, Scotty, without it even being on board. It was able to incapacitate Commander Spock without even being on board! The alien was a hologram, yes, but that didn’t seem to impair it’s power.” 

“It was a _platform_ for it’s power, sir. It needed you to believe it, to believe it could have the power to destroy us at any moment. Instill enough fear into somethin’, and you’ve got the power to convince them of anythin’.”

“What do you propose, Scott?” he prompted. 

“We turn this rig around, Captain.”

Kirk immediately shook his head. “No. No, it would be irresponsible. It’s too great of a risk for the Enterprise.”

“Might I suggest we deviate from our course, if only slightly, and observe what becomes of me, Captain.” spoke up Spock.

“What?!” Kirk thought his eyes would bug out. 

“I am only one, Captain. The Enterprise is many, and civilizations at risk are many more.”

A wave of nausea swept across Kirk. He just got his first officer back, and now he was volunteering to die. Scotty and Sulu looked at him in a mix between alarm and horror. 

“I can’t do that, Spock.” He replied, looking to the ground and shaking his head. 

“Captain, it is unlikely, that should they be able to reach us at this distance, that I would be immediately killed. I suspect they are desperate for these crystals, and would give timely precursors prior to my final breath.”

“We might have enough time to get back on course before anything permanent happens to him.” agreed Sulu. He, too, felt sick at risking the first officer, but after hours sitting at the helm, he had a lot of time to think about it. He didn’t want to sail to the star cluster and sail back bearing gifts for monsters. He was terrified of what they were capable of should they leave. There didn’t seem to be any other choice. He grimly thought that Spock was braver than he could ever be.

Kirk’s shoulders sunk and he put his thumb and middle finger on his temples. This couldn’t be happening. He looked up and met the gentle, yet clear gaze from Spock. He didn’t need to hear him say those words. His stare said it for him. _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few._ He sighed, defeated. What choice did he have? Before, he had no hope. Now, at least, there was a small glimmer.

“And what happens when it becomes obvious Spock is being affected?” He asked with dread. Sulu and Scotty looked at each other, unsure. They didn’t need to answer, however, as Spock already knew the answer. 

“We release a message via satellite into this galaxy, warning all explorers to avoid the coordinates of the alien’s planet. We ensure Starfleet has all information necessary. And then, we leave the aliens and their crystals behind and wait for their threat to become reality.” 

“And you’ll be dead by that point.”

“Hypothetically, yes, Jim.” 

He shook his head again, staggered by the conversation. There was no way to physically defeat them. There was no help around to call upon. It was only Kirk, his ship, and his first officer with a death wish. 

 


	8. Triumvirate

“Are you fucking kidding me?” hissed McCoy. “That’s real rich, Jim. For Christ’s sake.” 

“Doctor, may I remind you it was my idea.” interjected Spock. 

“You shut the hell up, you suicidal beanpole.” retorted the Doctor with a finger pointed accusingly at the Vulcan. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“What choice do I have, Bones?” implored Kirk. His chest felt incredibly heavy, knowing this was their course of action. “He brought up a good point, we’ll probably be able to get back on course before anything deplorable happens. And that’s only if they weren’t lying about their powers, which, honestly, I’m beginning to think that they probably did.” McCoy laughed dangerously.

“Well that’s a great plan, really. I mean, kudos to the both of you, because frankly, you’ve outdone yourselves.” He was pacing in front of Kirk and Spock, rubbing his hand over his face and shaking his head. His emotions were on fire.

“And, pray tell, Jim, what if they weren’t lying about their powers? And if that’s the case, what if your pointy-eared first officer is wrong about how they’ll handle killing him? You’re just assuming they’ll kill him slowly, ya know, really drag it out, which is what we want for some reason, but that just might be fuck dirt wrong. He could die instantly, or within seconds! What then?!” he cried. Kirk flinched. The doctor was livid, obvious from not only his intonation but from his use of insults and swears. 

“McCoy, you fail to remember the alternative,” said Spock. “which is; we sentence countless lives in this galaxy, or more, to torture and death by doing as we were asked and bringing them their life-based crystals.”

“There has to be another way!” He bellowed, his hands moving vehemently with his words. Suddenly he stopped pacing and snapped his fingers.

“Wait! Wait. We get the crystals, and Spock and I can synthesize a toxin and embed it into the crystals. When they use them, they’ll be laced with death! Right?!” 

“We know nothing of these beings, Doctor McCoy,” continued Spock. “It would be physically impossible to select the correct chemicals and for them to be guaranteed effective.”

“You know they’re going to kill you, right, Spock? Deceased, dead, gone. Forever.” He ran a hand through his hair and continued pacing. Halfway through McCoy’s outburst, Kirk had to sit down. He felt everything McCoy was feeling; the anger, fear, and consternation at putting Spock in this position. He hadn’t eaten in over a day, and he had absolutely no desire to. His appetite was obliterated the first time he heard Spock scream almost 24 hours ago. The muffled yells echoed in his brain.

Unlike McCoy, however, Jim Kirk was the Captain of the Enterprise. Sometimes that meant making tough, unwanted decisions for the greater good. This was one of those times, albeit magnified exponentially. 

“Captain, perhaps we should call Mister Scott in here. He did an effective job at explaining-“

“No, Spock, dammit, I get it, I get it.” McCoy said tightly. “Yes, it does make sense in some ways, alright? I’m not ruling out the possibility of them lying. Maybe, maybe, we try this out and everything turns out hunky dory. But we’re going on a hunch, here. We have no facts. Doesn’t that bother you, Spock? Aren’t you always yammering on about how you need cold hard facts to make logical assumptions?”

“In situations where facts are available, you would be correct, McCoy. Unfortunately, this is not one of those situations. Perhaps there will be a day I regret saying so, but as a friend has once told me, sometimes a hunch, or a feeling, is all we have to go on.” Spock said, a light in his eyes. Beneath his emotional barriers, there was fear. But no matter how Vulcan or how Human he was, he would always put himself in the path of danger for the sake of his ship and it’s crew. Without the Enterprise, Spock had nothing. And he knew that.

Spock’s exclamation caused an unexpected wave of warmth and acceptance go through Jim. He sighed deeply and looked up to Spock, the pillar of strength in the room. He was right. Jim smiled to himself. His friend had remembered what he had told him ages ago, in another situation when logic was unavailable. 

McCoy stopped pacing and stared at the Vulcan, speechless. The fire within him slowly died, and he too had to sit down. Dammit. He’s right. He groaned and rubbed his eyes at the rare admittance. 

“So…when do we do this?” he asked tiredly, defeated.

“Well, we’re about 18 hours away from reaching that star cluster. So, now.” Kirk answered, looking up at him. McCoy swallowed. 

“Alright, then.” he said quietly. 

The three of them had faced a lot in the past. They’d always stuck together through every obstacle they faced, and for as long as they were on that ship, they always would. They were quite the dynamic, those three men. They were as tumultuous as the black void they explored, but nothing could breach the quiet admiration they had for one another. McCoy never realized how much greater that admiration was than his annoyance towards the Vulcan, until that moment. He would, of course, never tell Spock that. 

Kirk ordered all bridge officers to the bridge, sleeping or not. He needed everyone ready for anything. The three officers made their way there without exchanging a single word, the anticipation of what’s to come ringing louder than speech. 

Kirk walked through the entryway before his counterparts, bracing himself for the orders. Spock took his loyal place next to the Captain’s chair, hands held behind his back. His eyes betrayed nothing. McCoy stood anxiously on the raised lip of the bridge, his head pounding. 

“Alright, gang,” Kirk inhaled deeply, meeting the eyes of the bridge. “We’re explorers, first and foremost. We came out here looking for peaceful, intelligent life. What we found was something hostile and merciless. Next to being explorers, we’re good people. This universe has unimaginable, indescribable beauty in it and it’s something we cherish very deeply. We believe we can all co-exist in that beauty, and the last thing we want is for that beauty to be jeopardized. We know what we signed up for when we boarded this ship, and I think I can speak for us all when I say the excitement we felt coming aboard was far stronger than the fear. Today, we prove to ourselves that we are the good in the universe,” He looked around him, seeing the determination of his officers stew in the air around them. He continued with his explanation.

“Mister Scott has a theory that these beings were lying about their capabilities, and he doesn’t believe they can reach us at this distance. That they attempted to instill fear in us to do their dirty work. I too believe that, and I believe we have no business being here. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk we’ve got to be willing to make.” A beat passed. “We’re leaving.” he finished. 

Smiles erupted around him, with a few cheers flittering about. Sulu smiled too, but a hint of sadness lined his features. He prayed there wouldn’t be a sacrifice to their valued goodness. 

“Mr. Sulu, warp factor 2. Get us off this course at a 90 degree angle, headed for BMC03.” he ordered. He desperately wanted to get as far away with as much speed as possible, but he needed to take it slow for Spock’s sake. 

“Right away, Captain.” Sulu acknowledged, ramping the steer and plotting his course. McCoy’s heart was beating loudly in his ears. He wrung his hands and kept glancing nervously between Spock and the view screen, half expecting him to keel over. Kirk sat in his chair, his mind on hyperdrive. He was more than aware of the Vulcan near him, exponentially glad for his presence. He swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the window before him. 

Spock stood, hardly aware of the fatigue in his muscles. A few hours ago, he felt he couldn’t stand for more than 10 minutes. Now his adrenaline kept him tall, the memory of the pain attempting to suffocate his thoughts. He kept his chin up, refusing to buckle to it. A thought that death could be coming for him any second briefly crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside. He watched the stars in the view screen streak across the distance as the ship turned. Any course they were on previously was now gone. His chest moved with heavy breathing, waiting.


	9. Taking A Risk

The entire bridge sat in anticipation, knowing how small a hunch they were taking a risk on. Everyone’s focus was wholly on the view screen, palm’s sweating. Before long, they had been sitting intensely for 20 minutes. Soon 30 minutes. McCoy eventually became tired of staring at Spock and checking his micro expressions, and his immediate concern for him dwindled to a conscious but steady concern. After 40 minutes, he decided the danger of him dying immediately disappeared. Check off one box. Next was the anticipation of signs of a slow death. Fantastic. He thought grimly. 

Eventually Kirk took his eyes off the stars and looked up to his first officer. Spock replied with a small shake of his head. Nothing. The captain nodded, and slowly blinked his eyes back to the glass. He could feel the bags under his eyes, and exhaustion crept into his head. A few hours passed, by which time Spock could no longer stand and took his familiar seat at the science station. McCoy was checking the bridge members, making sure no one was about to sputter out. Satisfied with his results, he strolled back to Kirk.

“You need to eat and you need to sleep, Jim.” He said only loud enough for Jim to hear. 

“I will, I need to wait until we put distance between us and that star cluster.”

“It’s been hours, Jim. There’s distance. If something would’ve happened, it would’ve happened already. It’s not over yet, but it’s over for now. And you need to be ready for when later comes. Come on.” He nodded over his shoulder back towards the turbo lift. Thanks to his superior senses, Spock heard the conversation and had reached his original stance next to Kirk. 

“He’s right, Jim. I’ll have the conn, for now.” He said. Jim wiped his face with his hand and sighed. “Alright, alright.” He swallowed. “You don’t…feel anything?” 

“No.” 

Kirk nodded again and stood from his chair. McCoy followed him into the turbo lift, determined to see him go through with his medical orders. Kirk barely threw over his shoulder that Spock was in command before telling the computer to take them to the quarters deck. 

“I’m gonna give you a hypo to help you sleep.” stated McCoy when the door closed. 

“No, that’s alright Bones. I feel pretty tired, I won’t need help.”

“Yes, you will. The mind explores dangerous things when it wants to sleep. And I’m also going to make you eat a sandwich and some fruit, no, don’t argue with me.” He held a finger up. Jim exhaled loudly. “You gotta stay up there, Bones. Keep an eye on him.” He said wearily. McCoy grabbed onto the railing as the turbo lift stopped. “I will, Jim. He’s alright for a few minutes.” 

Kirk went straight for his bedroom as the doctor fetched his hypo and meal, snagging a second sandwich for himself. He hadn’t eaten much either, and if he had babysitting duty for the Vulcan, he was going to need all his strength. That man really knew how to test his limits. 

McCoy was going to bring up something to talk about over their sandwiches, give Kirk a sense of calmness while they sat at the small table in his quarters. But he found nothing of interest, and they ate silently. 

“Alright, unless I need you for some reason, I want you to sleep for six hours.” he said after they finished. Kirk raised his eyebrows in protest. “It should be something like 12 hours, Jim, but the best I can do for you right now is six. So, six hours.” he ordered. He dug out his hypo and inserted it into Kirk’s shoulder. It hissed as it entered the captain’s bloodstream. 

“You need to call me if anything, anything, happens.” implored Kirk. 

“Okay,” McCoy gave him a nod of understanding. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Kirk could feel the sedation take it’s effect, and barely registered the voice of McCoy turning the lights off. He fell into a vortex of sleep with no struggle. 

McCoy leaned against the wall outside of Kirk’s quarters, grateful for it’s empty hallway. A primal part of him was envious of Kirk’s nap. He’d slept for a few hours this morning, but the catnap didn’t seem to do much for him. Switch with Jim when he wakes up. He decided. With a heavy inhale and exhale, he pushed off the wall and headed upstairs. He had half a Vulcan to supervise. 

Another hour had passed, with Spock in the chair and McCoy beside him. By this time, Spock had revamped the sleep rotation for the bridge, relieving those who needed it most. Uhura walked past him to head to her quarters, but stopped and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him, and gave him a relieved look. They all knew what the alien threatened should they veer off course, but so far, Spock seemed strong and steady. She noticed his skin was a bit paler than normal, but otherwise it appeared as if this was any other normal day. Silently, Spock gave a small, understanding nod. He was admittedly a little uncomfortable with the entire bridge being aware of him, but he was also grateful for it…just slightly.

As time passed, McCoy continuously checked on Spock. It had become annoying to the Vulcan, for the doctor constantly harassed him about his condition. Eventually his headache came back, stronger than what it was before. He cursed McCoy and his incessant hounding.

Nausea slowly crept into his stomach, strengthened by hunger. Spock knew he needed to eat, but he didn’t want to. It was entirely illogical, as the logical thing to do would be to maintain strength. For Jim and the ship’s sake. But he surmised he would vomit if he ate anything, so the decision had been made. Water, however, may be a good idea.

He stood from his chair, the idea of fetching a bottle of H20 fresh in his mind. The second he was upright, the nausea spread in his body and a swift wave of lightheadedness pooled in his brain. The room went black for a millisecond, and he grabbed the captain’s chair as he staggered. As quick as his senses were assaulted, it was gone. The room stood still and the faint feeling vanished. He blinked it away and looked at the bridge. Nobody saw. Gracious of that fact, he took a step towards the lift, still intent on that water. Out of nowhere, a firm hand sprung out and grasped his forearm. It was McCoy’s, who’s gaze had been trained on him the entire time. He had fear in his eyes. 

“I’m alright, Doctor.” Spock said quietly. Knowing the Vulcan’s arbitrary need for privacy, McCoy tailed him to the turbo lift and closed the door. 

“Like hell you are!” He hissed, looking him up and down. “You looked like you were gonna pass out!”

“I understand how it may have seemed, McCoy, but I don’t find it concerning. You know as well as I do that my circumstances given yesterday’s events are undesirable, and I’ve not consumed anything since that time. I don’t believe we should find it as evidence to the alien’s threats, considering it was a natural reaction to…this ordeal.” 

McCoy exhaled heavily and took a step back from Spock. He had felt unadulterated terror when he saw Spock stumble on the bridge. For nothing to have happened for hours, and then for the Vulcan to suddenly falter…well, the waiting was painfully exhausting; the anticipation of whether Spock was in danger or not was killing the doctor. 

“Fine, maybe. But maybe not. We’re gonna get some substance in you, and sleep, NO! Don’t you dare argue with me, you goddamned dusty sack of beans! AND SLEEP, and we’ll see how you are from there.” 

Spock sat on the doctor’s decision, debating on if it was worth battling over or not. 

“Captain Kirk is sleeping. I cannot also sleep with no replacement.”

“Kirk is gonna be awake in less than two hours. Sulu can manage that. He’s been in command in red-alert situations before, he’s capable.” McCoy said, refusing to budge. Spock opened his mouth to protest, but McCoy gave him a dangerous look.

“I will cut your tongue out.” he said coolly, a layer of truth laced in his words. Spock looked up to the ceiling, annoyed. Eyes still on the panels above him, Spock took out his communicator.

“Spock to Sulu.”

“Go ahead.”

“You have the conn, temporarily.”

“Yes, sir.”

He clicked it shut and looked to McCoy, hoping he was satisfied. McCoy gave a curt nod and directed the turbo lift to sickbay.

“Doctor McCoy, I thought we agreed I’d eat and rest.” Spock objected as the lift began to move.

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be doing that too. But I never got that check up I was promised after Kirk took you out of sickbay. So, we’re doing that right now.” He smiled. Spock shook his head and turned away from the doctor. There was no point in arguing. They exited the lift.

“Your silence is making me nervous.” McCoy said after they’d been walking for several minutes. “Any other day, I feel like I have a hard time getting you to stop chewing my ear off.” He looked sideways to the Vulcan, but his gaze wasn’t met. 

“I am tired, Doctor.” he answered simply. “I do not wish to exert my energy wasting my words with you.” 

McCoy scoffed and even smiled. A few days ago, a statement like that would have resulted in a heated retort. Today it was more relieving than anything. 

“Fair enough.” He said.

The sickbay was becoming something of an abyss to Spock. He’d had his fill of the white walls and incriminating medical knives. He sighed, jaded, as he lied down on the biobed. The monitor beeped to life.

“K3 levels look good.” McCoy noted as he waved his reader over Spock. “K1…needs improvement. Food will help that. How’s that headache?” He looked down at Spock. He wanted to see if the Vulcan would be honest before he tested his theory. The Vulcan pressed his lips together. 

“Still present.” he said shortly. McCoy hovered the scanner near his temples, the quiet humming aggravating the dull pain. 

“Yes it is.” The doctor said to himself, chewing the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like that headache very much. Vulcan’s rarely experienced headaches. 

“I can give you a hypo.” He offered as the scanner dropped to his side. 

“No.” he answered, unvarnished. 

“It will help, Spock.”

“No, Doctor, what it will do is make me ill. I’m already in a weakened state, those voodoo sprays can do nothing good for me.” He sat up, fighting a small bout of dizziness. “In fact, at this moment, I’d prefer to rest. That is what may help.”

“Alright.” McCoy mumbled, looking at the monitor. There was nothing abnormal showing up. Exhaustion, hunger, fatigue. All to be expected. He turned to the now standing Vulcan. “But you need to sleep, Spock. No meditating. Sleep.” 

“That is my intention, Doctor.” 

McCoy nodded and pointed to the room Spock was in several hours ago. Spock stared at him.

“I have no desire to sleep here, McCoy.”

“How am I supposed to keep an eye on you?”

“At the moment, I do not believe that’s necessary.”

“Oh, my God, Spock.” McCoy rubbed his face with his hands. “You are single handedly the worst patient I’ve ever treated.” Spock cocked his head, observing the doctor. He too appeared to need sleep, as his patience continued to grow thinner.

“I’ll keep an alert sensor with me, Doctor. If I’m unable to reach you via my communicator, I’ll have the sensor with me. You need not worry.” He said, his tone even. He did not envy McCoy’s position.

“Fine, fine.” replied the Doctor, rubbing his forehead with one hand and waving Spock off with the other. Spock stared at him for a beat and gladly left the room, collecting an alert sensor off the wall as he left. 

It was a small device, designed to reach medical staff in case of emergencies, primarily when the patient was unable to call for help. Inside the device were two small, thin strips that fit over the thumb and middle fingertips. Highly sensitive sensors lined these strips, who’s job it was to collect data over the patient’s heartbeat. It was a simple device, but extremely effective and revolutionary. A heartbeat could tell medical staff many things; illness, fear, seizures, consciousness levels, etc. The moment the sensors detect danger in the patients heartbeat, the medics are alerted. McCoy did feel more at ease knowing the Vulcan had one with him. 

Spock wandered down the corridor, his legs heavy. The tease of sleep tugged at his mind. He briefly thought about just falling asleep in his uniform, but almost immediately decided against it. He was tired, not dying. 

As he tugged his black rest shirt on, his mind slowed down to a dull roar. It had been active the entire day, keeping intense attention at every turn that came upon them. Now, as it reeled down from the high of it all, his mind slowly drifted to how it felt when the malign wires ensnared his legs. His arms. His jaw.

He blinked and shook his head, chasing the memory away. He couldn’t stand to think of it anymore. There were other matters to focus on.

He practically crawled into his bed, his muscles screaming for relief. Finally, he was able to breath. He took a long breath in, and closed his eyes as he exhaled. He was barely conscious of the sensor strips wrapped around his fingertips. His head drooped to the pillow as blackness took over.


	10. Yuk-eshu'a and Flame

He kneeled down, his knee resting on the blood orange dirt. He grasped a handful and watched it as it filtered down between his fingers. He wasn’t sure what planet he was on.

Spock looked around, his palm stained a chalky orange. The sky was dark and impending, a stark contrast to the highly saturated ground he was kneeling on. Ranges of massive mountains lined the horizon. It would have reminded him of Vulcan, but Vulcan was warm and welcoming. A peaceful planet. This planet, although no one was in sight, sent chills down down his spine. The dark clouds loomed overhead.

Far away in the distance, Spock heard something. A _whoosh_ ing sound, the sound of something soaring through the air. His heart starting racing; whatever it was, it went against every fiber of his being. Wind began to blow against his hair. He spun around, searching for the direction the noise was coming from. The mountains blurred together as he whipped to every side he could face, his eyes trying to lock onto the mysterious object’s location. 

The _whoosh_ ing grew louder and louder, assaulting his ears. The current of air became relentless as it carried the noise of something to come with it. He kneeled down further to the ground and wrapped his hands over his head as the noise increased to a unbearable level. He couldn’t hear his own voice as he yelled out against the wind, burying his head into his chest.

Something swift and heavy hit the back of his shoulder, hard. His body lurched to the ground as it made contact. Pain exploded from his shoulder, sending waves of shock through the rest of his body. He struggled against the increasing wind, trying to regain his focus as he pushed off the dirt. He was only aware of the violently throbbing pain in his shoulder and the howling wind in his ears. He tilted his head up and looked to the sky, the wind whipping against his hair. His body tensed as the air threatened to knock his kneeling body back down.

His eyes widened when he looked to the sky. There it was; the Enterprise. Muscle memory caused him to immediately pat his hip, expecting there to be a communicator that would save his life. There was nothing. He looked down at himself and saw he was wearing the Vulcan robe of Kolinahr, a ritual he had, against his father’s wishes, not taken part in. 

Another attacking object raced towards him, nailing his right collarbone. He was thrown backwards, the dried dirt billowing from under his body. He lost his breath as anguish rocked his senses. He wrestled against the dirt, trying to escape the striking objects. His eyes searched against the howling and the wind, but found no evidence that anything had hit him. Jolts of pain shot down his arm and back. He looked up just in time to see an explosion erupt from the hull of the Enterprise.

“NO!” He yelled, struggling to his feet and outstretching an arm to the lost ship. He fell back to his knees as something rammed into his side, another white wave of pain ricocheting his skeleton. He curled into himself, attempting to use pressure to control the pain. He looked back up hopelessly as another explosion ripped the bridge apart, snaking to the core of the ship. Against the screams of his body, he staggered back onto his feet and ran, aimlessly trying to stop the onslaught. Something crashed against the base of his spine, and another snapped across his jaw. He dropped to the ground, sand digging into his cheek. A domino effect caused explosion after explosion into the ship until it was nothing but a fireball, falling gracefully into the atmosphere. An ambush of unseen objects pillaged against Spock’s prone body, his yells lost in the deafening wind.

His body jolted upright, sweat plastering his shirt to his skin. His lungs gasped violently for air. The dimness of emergency lights lined the far side of his room, giving soft shadows to the wall. His heart rate was speeding so quickly it hurt. Another bead of sweat ran down the side of his face as his chest heaved with forced breaths. He blinked several times, utterly confused of his location. He was just on…some strange planet. Flashes of an Enterprise on fire appeared in his memory. The pain had felt _so_ _real._

No. He leaned against the wall at the head of his bed, trying to get his breathing under control. His heart pounded loudly against his ribs. He put his fingers against his temples and clenched his eyes shut, trying to focus. _It was not real. It was a dream. You’re on the Enterprise. You’re on the Enterprise._

He needed to get out of that bed, he needed to stand and breath. He couldn’t get his heart and breathing under control. He swung his legs over and tried to stand, but he fell to the floor is a heap of shock and sweat. His muscles no longer obeyed him as he tried to push himself to all fours. 

There was a brief moment of loud pounding on the door; someone was screaming his name. The sounds of buttons being pushed. Medical override. 

McCoy burst through the door, practically kicking it open. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw Spock hunched over on his hands and knees, breathing far too heavily. He sprinted to him and dropped to his knees, grabbing the Vulcan’s shoulder and demanding answers. 

“What’s wrong, Spock?! SPOCK!” 

Spock blinked against the haze. He grabbed onto McCoy’s forearm as the doctor forced him to sit back against the bed.

“Doctor-“ He tried, but his voice was lost in his throat. The doctor was still shouting at him. “Doctor, it’s alright.”

“Alright?! Your heart rate is dangerously high, Spock! What happened? What’s wrong? You gotta talk to me, man!” The sensors on his fingertips. He brushed them together as he vaguely remembered their presence. 

McCoy could see the sheen of sweat on the Vulcan’s skin. He shook him again, repeating his question. It was obvious the Vulcan was in some kind of haze, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get through to him. 

“Doctor McCoy, it’s alright,” Spock repeated between breaths. “It was only…” he swallowed as the vivid dream crept to the front of his mind. “It was only a night terror.” 

“Christ.” McCoy rummaged through his bag until he found the right hypo, and immediately pressed it into the Vulcan’s skin. Spock leaned back further until his head rested against the mattress. He thought of tactical breathing as he attempted to calm down. 

“A hypo, McCoy…?” He managed. 

“I need to get your heart rate under control, Spock. It’s worth you feeling a little nauseous.”

He picked up Spock’s wrist and held it, counting his heartbeat. Normally Spock would have yanked his hand away, but he was too focused on his breathing to even notice. When McCoy was satisfied the Vulcan wasn’t about to have a heart attack, he released his wrist and stared at him. McCoy needed to get his own heart rate under control; it had been thumping like a jack rabbit since his emergency pager went off.

Spock desperately tried to get himself back to a normal level. He did not want McCoy to be witnessing him in this position. He exhaled through his nose when he realized it was too late for that, anyway. 

“You have a fever, Spock.” said McCoy with concern. He was holding his scanner near the Vulcan’s head. “It’s only a few degrees more than it should be, but a fever is a fever.”

Spock said nothing. He swallowed and kept his eyes on the wall, feeling his chest loosen and his breathing come easier.

“Spock?” 

Spock slowly moved his eyes so they met those of McCoy’s. McCoy was exceptionally disquieted about this situation. This was highly, highly unusual behavior of a Vulcan…particularly Spock. The threats from the alien played in the back of his mind. 

“What was the dream about?” 

Spock looked away from him. His fear of the dream was felt inside him, but he wouldn’t let his face betray that. He held like a statue. 

“I should have given you a sedative to help you sleep, I just didn’t think you would — dammit, I should have known better.”

“No, McCoy, I would have denied those as well. It’s…it’s just cause and effect, Doctor. Our position the last few days has been abnormal, I believe it’s fair to assume anyone would have night terrors over it.” He took another deep breath, finally feeling his body fill with enough oxygen and his mind take calmness. 

“This was not an average nightmare, Spock. Your heart rate was almost 320 beats per minute, I thought your heart was going to fail!” he said, trying to get Spock to realize what just happened. “Does this feel like this has something to do with what that alien said?” 

Spock shook his head. “I do not know. It’s too soon to tell.” 

“If that’s what this is, it’s only going to get worse.” McCoy said quietly. 

“It’s only the first night, McCoy, and I’m in no danger. You must not tell the Captain.”

“What? Are you kidding me, Spock? Do you have any idea how much he cares about you? For Pete’s sake, you-“

“Doctor McCoy, it is for that reason that you must not tell him.” Spock urged. “If you describe to him what happened, he will turn this ship around and get us back on that course.” He braced his palm onto the mattress and pushed, getting his feet to stand. McCoy rose with him, keeping a steady grip on his arm.

“He already told you, Spock, he’s not giving into what the alien wants, you don’t have to keep worrying about that.”

“I understand that, but the human in him cannot bring himself to watch me die. He would turn around to prevent that until he thought of a better plan, of which there is none. We need to press forward. We cannot go back.”

“If this continues, there has to be a point where he finds out.”

“It’s not my wish to keep information from him. I just ask you keep this…what happened tonight, I would like it to be confidential. Between you and I, Doctor McCoy.” 

McCoy shook his head; unbelievable. He had _sprinted_ to Spock’s quarters, finding him in a sweaty heap on the floor, breathing like he’d just climbed a mountain. It did not ring well with the doctor.

“What that thing said…it keeps replaying in my head, Spock. I just keep coming back to the conclusion that this has to be related to it. The stumble on the bridge, now this. Maybe you were wrong, Spock…maybe the alien wasn’t lying.” He bore his eyes into Spock’s.  

“How long have I been asleep?” Spock asked, avoiding McCoy’s statement. The doctor ran a hand through his hair.

“Three hours. Jim’s back on the bridge, doing better now that he’s slept and eaten. HEY!” McCoy snapped his fingers and stared accusingly at Spock, something the Vulcan noticed he did often lately. “Did you eat anything like I asked you to?” 

Spock mentally prepared himself for the inevitable lecture. He just wanted to get his uniform on and go to work, he did not want to deal with this.

“The energy I had after leaving sickbay was only enough to get me to my quarters. I had no desire to eat.”

“Oh my-“ McCoy spun around and walked a few steps away from the Vulcan, needing to distance himself before he punched him in the throat. “I specifically told you that you needed to eat. You may be Vulcan, Spock, but you’re also human. You can’t deny your body of nutrients, especially at a time like this! What were you thinking?! Aren’t you a man of logic?” he asserted. 

Spock exhaled and sat on the top of his bed, unable to ignore his muscles anymore. 

“I was confident I would become ill if I were to eat anything.” he explained. 

McCoy shook his head and tapped his medical scanner against his hand in annoyance. Admittedly some of the annoyance was towards the Vulcan, but most was to the situation in general. He looked him up and down in the dim light.

“Lights, 50%.” The lights grew to a soft glow. Spock blinked his eyes in readjustment, wondering what the doctor was doing. In an answer to his question, he looked to the doctor, who was meticulously studying him. 

“If I may say so, your staring may be more productive at a different time.” he said, the sarcasm not escaping McCoy’s ears. 

“You look like hell, Spock. You look like total shit.” 

Spock raised his eyebrow and looked back to the wall. _I suppose that’s an accurate description for how I feel, too,_ a human part of him thought. 

“You probably feel like shit, too.” continued McCoy. Now Spock raised both eyebrows, as it seemed the Doctor could read minds.

“I’m the Chief Medical Officer, Spock. I’ve been doing this for over a decade. I started off studying under Kurt Boyenga, did I ever tell you that? Kurt. Fucking. Boyenga. I once performed emergency surgery on a Hyvoqridicalian in the middle of bum fuck Geignnendoria.” Spock furrowed his brow, heavily confused at the term of ‘bum fuck’, and at the point of this sermon. 

“My point is, Spock, I know what I’m doing. I know what’s good for you. You do not. I do. You know nothing, I know everything. Let me do my job.” he finished. Spock wanted to correct him on the fact that no, he did not ‘know nothing’, but he felt too tired. 

“What is it that you want from me, Doctor?”

“I want you to _take care of yourself_. You’re body has gone through enough, you’re not doin’ yourself any favors by skipping meals.”

“Logical conclusion, Doctor. I’ll see to that tomorrow.” Spock just wanted McCoy to leave. He wasn’t lying, he would eat tomorrow. But at the moment, he desperately just wanted to be alone. 

McCoy knew that was too easy. It takes several rounds of banter before he can get Spock to agree to anything. He’d revisit this tomorrow.

“And you need to sleep the rest of the night. And if you try to argue against that after what I just saw, then you will be the most vapid man I’ll have ever met. So don’t argue with me. I’m also gonna you a sedative this time, a sedative that will put you out and release chemicals to ease your nerves. No nightmares. Got it?” 

“Yes, Doctor McCoy.” he answered flatly.

“Great.” 

He gave him the sedative, ignoring the subtle look of betrayal on Spock’s face. He didn’t have a choice, the man needed to sleep. A sense of deja vu flittered across McCoy’s mind as he thought about doing the same thing to Jim hours ago. The top two officers of a ship in a crisis, hardly able to stand on their own two feet; fantastic. 

Well, at least Jim was standing. A prime example of following the doctor’s orders; eat your greens and get some rest, you’re gonna be alright. It worked out for the Captain.

But, Spock… _not the same story. I can make him sleep and eat as much as I want to, but…I don’t know what good that can do for him anymore._

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who have stuck with my story so far, and to those who have had such kind words to say about it. I take note off all who love Star Trek as much as I do. There's plenty more story to come. Live Long and Prosper.


	11. The Inevitable

His senses came to him slowly. He could feel the dull pain before he even opened his eyes. It was based near his left collarbone with enough discomfort to waken him. Spock began to think back on what he may have done to cause the soreness, but a brutal wave of nausea pooled in his stomach and he left the thought behind as he jumped out of bed. He barely made it to the toilet before his insides were violently vomited into the basin. Clutching his torso, he lurched back into the toilet, hardly anything more than water coming out. His body continued to betray him as it to heaved repeatedly, obstructing his lungs from filling with air. The pressure in his head increased, and he desperately sprung his free hand out and grabbed onto something, anything, for support. Finally, the release he’d been praying for came and a rush of air filled his body. He coughed and fell back against the wall, the fight to catch his breath easier than it was last night. 

Last night. The night terror. He sprung a hand up to his neck and counted his pulse; it was too fast. Get under control, he demanded of himself. He closed his eyes and focused, finding the part of his mind which he used to meditate. Inhale, exhale. Get under control. The only thing worse than throwing up again would be to have Doctor McCoy come crashing through the door. He absolutely refused to relive that experience. 

I am condemning those impractical hyposprays. Of course McCoy and his singular minded practices assumed this would not happen. He took another deep breath and opened his eyes. His pulse regained a safe speed. Relieved, he exhaled and contemplated the situation. It was the multiple hypos and his lack of nutrients that caused him to be sick; it was logical. He would not become concerned until something abnormal happened. Until then, he had a duty as the first officer of the ship. His muscles protested as he lifted himself off the floor.

— — —

“Thanks, Bones.” said Jim as he took a sip of his delivered coffee.

“Figured you needed it.” 

“Yes, well, I think you might too.” 

Kirk had been awake and back on the bridge for several hours, but McCoy coerced him into taking a break in one of the smaller recreational rooms. Something about ‘overworking’ himself. 

“So he’s sleeping, now?”

“Yup. Probably won’t be long now, though.” That hypo I gave should be wearing off anytime.

“And…nothing to report?” asked Jim, a hint of hope in his eyes. McCoy chewed the bottom of his lip; he despised what Spock asked of him. He could ignore Spock, and tell his friend and captain the truth. It’s what he wanted to do.

“Nothing.” he decided. Kirk smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“Maybe that means we got it right. Scotty was right.” 

“Well, ya know, just don’t get too excited yet. I think we need more distance first.” said McCoy, the guilt bidding in his chest. He wasn’t convinced this was over. The instinct that Spock was still in danger refused to leave his mind.

“It’s been almost 12 hours since we got off course, and nothing’s happened to him. Don’t you think that’s enough time?” probed Jim. He needed to hear McCoy say that he thought Spock was safe. That this was finally over. 

“I just, um…I just have a feeling we need to stay on our toes a little longer.” The doctor wrung his hands under the table. Jim kept his gaze for a few moments before nodding.

“Right. You’re right. We can’t get ahead of ourselves. I just really want this to be behind us.” he admitted with a small laugh. McCoy replied with half a smile, his eyes becoming interested on a scratch on the table. 

“When was the last time you slept, McCoy?” asked Jim, noticing his normally dynamic friend’s behavior. 

“At this point, I don’t even know.” McCoy chuckled. “Why? Do I not look like a shining Georgia peach?” 

“Oh, you’re a peach all right.” Jim smiled at him. He’d been working diligently since it all went to hell…that doctor was a good man. “Go sleep, Bones.”

“You don’t want to play a game of chess first?” 

“Bones, you hate chess.”

“Damn right I do. And I would’ve said no even if you said yes. Alright,” he pushed off the table and stood. “I guess sleep does sound somewhat appetizing. You know to wake me up if you need anything.”

“You already know I do.” 

“Thanks, Jim. You’re a peach.” He winked and left Jim alone at the table. Kirk watched him go, knowing how long the doctor had been awake. A selfish part of him wanted McCoy to deny the sleep, and stay awake and nearby. His presence was an immense comfort to the captain, but Kirk knew McCoy was as human as everyone else. Well, almost everyone else. He looked over and eyed the 3D chess board across the table, reminded of fond memories playing with his first officer. He let out a silent laugh as he remembered the not-so-subtle frustration Spock gave when Kirk beat him. 

He finished his coffee as he sat alone in the room, relishing the quiet. So often as captain, everyone’s voices found their way to his ears and his mind was constantly filled with business and calamity. Here, there was no chaos but the noise of the vents.

Halfway down the corridor, McCoy stopped walking. His mind get nagging him back to Spock. Spock who nearly gave him a heart attack last night. You need to check on him, or you’re not gonna get any sleep. He sighed dramatically in the empty corridor and turned left towards the lift. His gut told him the damned Vulcan was probably already on the bridge. 

And his gut was always right; the second he walked through the entryway, his eyes locked onto the back of Spock’s head. He was leaning over Uhura’s station, discussing something with her. Well, not for long. 

“Spock.” called McCoy. The Vulcan turned at the mention of his name. To his dismay, McCoy motioned over with his head. 

“Doctor.” Spock acknowledged as he walked up to him. McCoy looked him up and down, searching for any signs he had an unrestful night. His skin might have been a little greener than before, but otherwise he did appear more rested. 

“How do you feel?”

“Adequately more rested, thank you.”

“I think I want another checkup.”

“Doctor, you saw me four hours ago.” he argued in a low voice. These checkups seemed to be borderline harassment. McCoy raised his eyebrows at him expectantly. He knew his requests of Spock were completely justified. The fever last night was minuscule, but it’s presence did bother McCoy. 

“Meester Spock,” interjected Chekov. Spock moved his ear towards the young man. “Zere is a small field of debris bearing point zero seven. Seems to be from a small asteroid collision.” he explained calmly. Although debris fields weren’t common, they were a normal and un-worrisome obstacle. 

“Evasive maneuvers, Mister Chekov. Sulu, do not lose our course.”

“Aye aye, Commander.” he obliged. Spock looked back to the doctor.

“I am better served on the bridge than in your medical room, Doctor McCoy. I assure you, I will alert you to anything concerning.” The ache of his shoulder suddenly registered in his mind. As he watched the Doctor walk away huffily, he almost opened his mouth to notify him of the fact, but Uhura’s voice had him lose his own.

“Commander, the debris is distorting my channels. There must be some kind of magnetic field to it.” she said uneasily. He walked back to her station to investigate her claim. He recognized this; this had happened on a mission with Pike years ago. Simple solution.

“Disengage the aural wavelengths and reverse the electric currents below the engineering deck.” he ordered. She furrowed her brow and looked away for a few moments, dissecting what he just asked of her. She’d never heard such a thing. She pulled up one of her levers and pressed a few buttons, put her hand up to her earpiece, then looked incredulously at the commander. 

“It worked.” she astonished. 

“I had experienced it before, Lieutenant. Now you have as well, and can impress your crew in the future where it will inevitably happen again. Sulu, report.” 

“We’re clear of the debris, Commander.” Sulu answered with a smile. It seemed like the Enterprise had their Vulcan back. 

“I’d say I’m impressed, but really, I’m not surprised.” Spock turned around and locked eyes with Kirk, who had just entered the commotion. “I never read anything like that in Pike’s reports.” 

“Captain Pike had a habit of excluding certain pieces of information due to forgetfulness. I recorded it in a supplemental log.” 

“Of course you did.” He smiled at him. “Back on course, Sulu?”

“Yes sir, we are.” 

“Good. Uhura, let’s make sure that goes in our records. Send a copy to Starfleet.”

“Yes sir.”

As the hours passed, the Enterprise ventured further into unexplored space. Thousands of unknown stars were being charted by Spock, a welcome distraction from the prodding pain in his shoulder.

The busier he became with his work, the more he forgot the pain was even there. But every once in a while, it would flare up with a piercing slam. He’d succeed in keeping his grimace internal, but not without his hands shaking in conclusion. It was becoming worse. The logical thing would be to pay the doctor a visit, and in a rare occurrence, he willingly told himself he would. However, he could not lose this advantage of charting the new stars. It was remarkably fascinating. That, and he too knew how little sleep McCoy had gotten lately. He did not wish to wake him.

“Spock.” He was so engaged in his discoveries, Spock hadn’t noticed the presence of Captain Kirk next to him. He looked up.

“Let’s go get lunch.” Kirk suggested. Spock hesitated; his stomach was not prepared for food.

“I am charting these stars, Captain.”

“That’s alright, Uhura’s pretty good at that. Uhura, take over the science station. Sulu, you’ve got the conn.” 

They both affirmed his orders, and Spock looked at him quizzically. Kirk rarely took Spock away from his station in the middle of systematic activities. He stood and followed his captain to the lift. 

“Captain, I will admit I am not hungry.” he said as it began to move. 

“I have orders to make sure you eat, Spock.” he explained with an apologetic smile. McCoy. They must have made passing when the doctor departed the bridge earlier. Spock tried to think of how to avoid this, to forgo the meal due to his ever present nausea, but he came up short. 

Then, curiously, he noticed his left hand was still shaking. But not in the small quakes as before; it was coming upon uncontrollable. He wanted to look down and inspect it, assuming it was acquired due to the blossoming pain in his collarbone, but he didn’t dare in front of Jim. 

“Why is he making sure I have you eat, Spock?” inquired Kirk as they walked towards the canteen. Spock severely disliked the concern everyone was displaying towards him. Being in the center of everyone’s minds was the opposite of his preferences.

“I can only assume it is because I refused to do so yesterday.”

“Right, he told me that. I think he’s worried about you, and I’ll admit, that makes me worried about you too. Are you okay?”

“I am fine, Captain.” It was a statement he sometimes deployed to avoid a lie; fine had variable definitions. If he was going to obtrude anyone with his physical ailments, he wanted to keep that number small; one. Doctor McCoy. He did not want the Captain to be worried with him when he had a much larger job to direct. 

“But you’re still not gonna eat?” Kirk asked. He always seemed to see through him. Spock sighed. They stopped walking.

“No, Jim. I cannot…not right now.” He answered honestly. He did not wish to admit the weakness to his friend, but there was no way around it. Kirk pursed his lips and nodded.

“Alright, well. I’m not gonna make you do anything. And I’m trusting you to inform me if you’re doubting your health. So, I’m not going to think anything of it right now. But if you still can’t keep anything down by tomorrow…it’s not gonna be a good sign, Spock.” He said seriously. Both he and Spock knew how illness affected Vulcans, and how rare they were for Spock himself. The universe never deployed coincidences. 

“I know, Jim. I too will accept a reason for this should it continue.” He hoped the pain and the vertigo would be gone by the night. He still logically believed his symptoms could be attributed to the stress he endured, but if it persisted after the day had passed…it would no longer be logical to assume such a thing.

“I think you should get some more rest.” Kirk didn’t want to order Spock back to his quarters, as he knew very well that Spock flourished when working. But he was acting strangely and it was obvious he was not in prime condition. Spock nodded his head, knowing he couldn’t go back to his work after this conversation. 

“Yes, Captain.” 

Oh, no. For a millisecond, Spock could feel the painful tremor bury in his shoulder. Not a moment after he registered what was about to happen, flaming pain erupted down his bones. The electric waves spiked down his shoulder, snaking into his elbow and causing everything else to go horribly numb. His vision blurred and he felt his body begin to sway. He tried to fight for consciousness, but his mind couldn’t process the overwhelming agony. His hearing and his vision were dipped in wax, and black spots rippled at his consciousness. 

Kirk could see Spock’s eyes hollow and his skin flush a ghastly tone. His head began to slowly drop backwards as his eyes slipped closed. He made no noise and he gave no intonation of what his body was feeling. He just began to fall. Alarmed, Kirk sprung forward and caught the falling Vulcan.

“Spock…! SPOCK!” His voice could not hide his panic. The momentum of Spock’s dense bones pulled Jim down with him, but he locked his muscles and saved Spock’s head from colliding with the floor. It had occurred so suddenly, he couldn’t begin to register what just happened. He just knew his best friend was on the floor, unresponsive.

“Spock! Come on, Spock.” He shook his shoulders sharply. His skin felt like ice. Kirk’s eyes flickered to his hand on Spock’s left shoulder, an unnatural color catching his attention. His eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at.

His hand had moved Spock’s uniform just enough to show a couple inches of his shoulder. It was severely bruised, tones of purple and an angry red covering his skin. Thin, electric blue lines covered the surface of the bruise. They were densest at Spock’s collarbone, zigzagging out in harsh lines. They licked down his arm and shoulder. Kirk’s breath hitched when he realized that this was not natural. 

It was happening. 

They were killing him.


	12. The Pendulum Effect

Spock slowly opened his eyes hardly a moment after Kirk laid him down. An anvil of pressure pressed down on his chest. Kirk felt his chest loosen at his first officer’s opened eyes, but it was incomparable to the hopelessness of the situation.

Spock found himself staring at the ceiling - was he on the floor? He sucked in a sharp breath of air when the stinging of his collarbone became apparent. He blinked away the fog and found Kirk staring in horror to the left of his body. Their eyes met when Kirk flicked his away from the incriminating wound to those of Spock. He felt a chill with the look in Kirk’s gaze. 

“Have you seen this?” asked Kirk, failing to keep his voice from shaking.

“Seen what, Captain?” he strained. He was perturbed by Jim’s despairing demeanor and by the fact they were both on the floor, but then he involuntarily grimaced as another small wave passed through his shoulder. Kirk left his question in the dust and immediately whipped out his communicator.

“Kirk to McCoy.” 

McCoy had been completely passed out in his quarters, but his eyes shot open at the intonation coming from his communicator. He swung his arm around and slammed it against the dresser, his fingers searching frantically in the dark for the device. 

“What is it, Jim?” he spluttered, his mind far more awake than his body. 

“It’s Spock.” His voice broke on Spock’s name. McCoy flung himself out of the bed and ran out the door, hopping on one leg as he tugged his boots on.

After he told McCoy where to find them, Kirk quickly stuffed the device away and pulled Spock’s neckline down again to look at the violent skin. 

“Jim…”

“You passed out, Spock.” he explained without taking his eyes off the incriminating shoulder. “Your shoulder…it’s…I don’t even know.”

Spock rotated his head to see for himself. He felt his blood recoil at the sight of it. His chest heaved and he looked back to the ceiling, unable to continue his observation. It was unwelcome evidence of much worse things to come. Another small tremor quaked down his bones. He held his breath as we waited for it to pass.

“You’re in pain.” Jim could see it as clear as he could see the hideous lesion. Spock nodded, his eyes clenched shut.

“We have to go back.” Jim whispered, feeling the despair in his gut magnify. 

“We can’t, Jim. Do not go back.” 

Before their differences could resurface, Doctor McCoy came barreling around the corner. Spock was on the floor and Kirk was kneeling beside him, his eyes wet and filled with conflict.

“What happened?!” He demanded as he fell beside them. He whipped out his medical scanner to get a read on Spock, but he froze when he caught sight of Kirk’s hands. Or, more importantly, what Kirk’s hands were hovering over. 

McCoy felt his jaw drop open. The piercing blue lines graphing across the dense colors were startling to say the least, and he found his mind had gone blank. 

“That was not there last night…” he whispered to himself.

“Last night?” Kirk shot his head up. “What happened last night?” 

McCoy opened his mouth to answer, but Spock interjected as he tried to raise to his elbows.

“It was unrelated, Cap-“

“Unrelated? What the hell happened last night?” demanded Kirk. Fear and anger was rising in his blood. Spock lifted his left elbow to further brace himself, but felt another stab dig into his shoulder. Both Kirk and McCoy leaned forward as he winced, forgetting the topic.

“We gotta get him to sickbay.” asserted McCoy.

“Agreed. Come on.” 

“Don’t touch that shoulder, Jim.”

Carefully, they lifted him so he was leaning against Kirk, his right armed draped across his shoulders. 

“Can you walk?” asked Kirk, not realizing how important the answer to that question was to him.

“Yes.”

McCoy walked cautiously to his left, ready to catch him if needed. Spock endeavored to focus on his steps, but his heavy arm was playing against him. Every movement with every step sent unsettling jolts down his insensitive forearm, the prickling of paresthesia splotching down from his shoulder. A ripple of vertigo had seized his mind since he’d hit the floor, and the further they made it towards medical, the more he felt confident in losing consciousness. 

Jim felt Spock become more sluggish as they dragged towards the room. It was only down the hall…

As the door labeled ’Sickbay’ came into view, Kirk staggered as Spock lost his stability, dropping to his knees. McCoy tried to steady the Vulcan as best he could, however difficult without touching that left arm. He turned down the hall, but looked back down to his side at Spock. He was still conscious, but breathing heavily and looking like he wouldn’t make it back to his feet. McCoy whipped back around.

“CHAPEL! Get out here with a shot of asthenia epinephrine, now!” he yelled. Silently grateful for his nurse’s efficiency, he saw the woman sprint out the doorway only moments later. Her heart dropped to her feet as she saw Spock. After what happened on the bridge, she never wanted to see him so powerless again.

She raced to McCoy, swiftly putting the hypo in his hand. Without hesitation, he pushed it into Spock’s huffing side. 

“Alright, get up, come on Spock.” commanded McCoy as he and Jim lifted him back to his feet. A small run of energy settled in his legs, and he found himself walking again. It wasn’t far…he could make it. 

They breached the doorway and Kirk rotated around, helping Spock to lie back on the biobed. Spock released a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the pressure released from his body. His chest moved in short, staggered breaths and he felt his lungs constrict. It didn’t go unnoticed. 

“What can you do, Bones?” 

“I don’t know yet.” McCoy answered, digging out his supplies. He turned to Spock and inspected his arm, unsatisfied with what he was observing. Expertly, he cut off Spock’s shirt in seconds. His heart skipped a beat when he saw he full of the wound in question.

The skin was such a dark color, he almost doubted it was skin anymore. It matted down to the bottom of his ribcage, the lines becoming more aggressive as they reached towards his heart. 

“I need a blood sample, Spock.” apologized the doctor as Chapel handed him a needle. Spock simply nodded, concentrating on the tiles on the ceiling. He no longer felt the pull of unconsciousness, but rather the tugging of the bones in his arm. His hand twitched involuntarily as McCoy slid the needle into his vein.

“What happened last night, McCoy?” Kirk prodded, his eyes serious. McCoy passed the green-filled needle to Chapel, and turned his scanner to Spock’s shoulder. Again, Spock wanted to explain for the doctor but another ridge of agony bolted into his scapula. He pressed his head back against the pillow and clenched his fists as he tried to build a wall against the torture, but it rammed stubbornly against his efforts. The K2 chart began shrieking.

McCoy snatched a hypo from the nearby cart and applied it, but the alarms continued to scream. He could visibly see the fight Spock was giving back, his entire body tense and rigid against the pain. McCoy thought he heard a strained whimper beneath the alarms. He tried another hypo, but nothing could breach the torment that confined him. Hideous shrieks continued to ring from the monitor.

“I need to put him out.” he decided hurriedly as Chapel ran back to his side. She dashed a few feet behind them and threw open a drawer, digging for the right one. Rapidly, she gave it to the doctor. He glanced at the label; iophedimentapholic tv’valliuiainiphor. The strongest he could safely give to the Vulcan.

He instantly pressed it into Spock’s pale, clammy arm. Almost immediately, the muscles in Spock’s body slowly released and he sunk into the bed, his head drooping to the side. His fingers twitched as his eyes slipped closed. With a lasting twitch from his index finger, he fell into darkness and the alarms finally silenced.

McCoy could hear his own heavy, adrenaline based breaths in the acquired silence. Kirk put his hand on Spock’s lifeless forearm, staring at his ghastly face. He repeated his question without looking away from the comatose Vulcan. 

“What happened last night?” he said through his teeth. McCoy dragged his eyes away from Spock. He looked at Chapel and nodded at her, their silent language needing nothing more. She looked at Spock for a quick moment, then left her CMOs side. 

“He had a nightmare…”

“A nightmare, McCoy?” he clarified angrily. 

“Yes, but…his heart rate was dangerously high. It affected him differently, physically…but there was no sign of this on my scanner last night…” he trailed off.

“Bones…” Kirk grasped the bedrails tightly. “Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me that?” 

McCoy shook his head, wondering if he had made a mistake.

“He asked me not to, Jim. He said you’d change your mind, you’d go off and get those stones, if you knew. He thought it was caused by temporary traumatic stress…I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, jump to conclusions, ya know…”

He tried to rack his head as he looked away from Kirk’s angry eyes to the monitor. Spock was dying, but he couldn’t pinpoint from where. He didn’t know how to help him. 

“Well that mistake might’ve cost Spock his life.” Kirk shot as he flipped out his communicator. “We’re turning around, but it might be futile at this point.” 

“Jim! That’s exactly why he didn’t want me to tell you! We can’t go back, Jim, for once I have to agree with Spock. We can’t subject civilizations to these creatures. Let me take a look at Spock, I can try and - “

“There’s no saving him from this, Bones! Either we turn around right now, or we get to watch him die! Which do you want to pick?!” he yelled, his hand gesturing aggressively to Spock’s lifeless figure. “You obviously made your choice last night!” 

“Now that’s not fair, Jim! I don’t want to see him die any less than you do! But there was once a time where James Kirk didn’t believe in no win scenarios, and this is a doozy of a no win, Captain! There has to be another option, something we haven’t considered!”

“You’re right, McCoy, I don’t believe in no win scenarios. I’m not going to deliver those crystals like an obedient golden retriever does with a stick, and I’m sure as hell to going to watch Spock die while I take breath! I don’t know exactly what we’re going to do yet, but I’m not going to let him suffer while I think about it! We’re going back, we’re turning around, and maybe that goddamn piece of shit can see that and give my first officer his life back. Then, I will think of a plan where we come out on top. You read me?” He glared into McCoy’s eyes as he swung his communicator open. 

“Kirk to Sulu. Turn around right now, get us back to that star cluster. Warp factor 7.”

After a moment more than average passed, Kirk heard Sulu’s affirmation. 

“Yes, Captain.”

He clicked it shut and stuck it back to his hip. He leaned on the bedrails and hung his head, taking in a deep breath. He tapped the top of his toes against the floor nervously. 

“I deliberately asked you to tell me if anything happened to him.” he said in a low voice, his head still hung towards the floor. McCoy swallowed and stared at his feet. He shook his head.

“It was important to him that I didn’t. You know what I’m talking about, Jim…you yourself take every word out of his mouth to heart. Once he says something somewhat logical, there’s no arguing with him. When you cross brains with Spock, he’ll cut you to pieces. Every time.” He gravelly echoed what he heard Sulu once say: it was a statement so true, he’d never forget it.

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck and sighed heavily. He tapped his toes against the tile again and looked up to the doctor. 

“Bones, since when do you ever listen to a thing he says?” he asked, his voice more gentle. 

“Well I can promise you I never will again.” he replied as he waved the scanner over Spock for the sixth time. Kirk exhaled through his nose and placed his hand on Spock’s good shoulder.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, Jim. He is dying,” Kirk tightened his grip. “but I can’t tell why. His bones look fine, his organs are functioning…that blood sample is my last hope at this point. This…this design…” He hovered his finger over the raised, jolting blue lines across Spock’s bruise. “It’s unnatural…nothing of the body can cause this.”

Kirk nodded, his head clearing from the anger and fear. He had never felt such trepidation as when he watched Spock fall to the ground for the second time. A very real part of him had been convinced the Vulcan was dead as he crashed down, completely unprovoked. 

“When will that anesthesia wear off?”

“For him, probably a couple of hours.” 

“Call me immediately when that happens. I have a crew to make amends with.” He strode past the doctor and left. McCoy looked after his departing figure. His emotions budded with anger, guilt, and disparity. He sunk into a nearby chair and held his head in his hands, his fingers gripping his hair. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he lost his mind. Chapel walked silently over and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. He reached up and placed his hand over hers, feeling a comfort in her presence.

“There’s nothing else you can do, Leonard.”

“That’s what’s bothering me.”

“It’s out of our hands.”

McCoy shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand, looking on to the Vulcan. “He was in trouble last night, and I didn’t tell Jim because he asked me to keep quiet. He’s right, Christine…I may have killed him.” 

“Leonard, you know Spock even better than I do. He can be very compelling and convincing, sometimes. Don’t blame yourself for that. ‘Even the most outrageous consequences can be a correlation of necessary events.’” she quoted.

“What the hell does that mean?”

She smiled sadly. “It just means that Spock knew what he was getting himself into.”

McCoy laughed dismally. “The problem is, that damn fool doesn’t know what’s good for him. He tosses his life aside like any normal person would do with a browned banana.” He looked at Spock’s still face. “He doesn’t treat his life with the logic he treats everyone else’s.”

— — — 

Kirk was met with the concerned, knowing faces of the bridge crew members. There was only one reason they would be turning back to that star cluster. 

“Commander Spock?” ventured Uhura. Kirk shook his head. 

“Open the main channel, ship wide.”

“Receiving, sir.” 

He cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. He opened his mouth and looked at the faces around him. 

“Crew of the Enterprise…this is the Captain speaking. We’re back on course for the star cluster, as it’s been made apparent this starship and her crew have been credibly threatened against. We’re fighters, and there’s absolutely no talk of obeying the demands of the alien race. However, to further prevent the death of this ship and her crew, we will be making head to the cluster until a break is seen in the case. Report to your department heads for any further questions, and let’s fight this son-of-a-bitch. Kirk out.” He popped his fist against the transmitter, deactivating the channel. 

“Is he dead, Captain?” dared Scotty with a tremor in his voice. Kirk bit his lip and shook his head.

“No, of course not. It takes a lot more than this to get rid of our Mister Spock. But, he is incapacitated at the moment.” He looked down, thinking of how his friend’s skin had blanched before collapsing. 

“Vatever it takes, Keptin.” avowed Chekov. A fire was lit in his eyes. He had a profound respect for Science Officer Spock and something akin to that for the ship, too. They all did. “Ven they threaten one crew member, they threaten the entire ship.”

“And the ship knows how to bite back.” Sulu finished. 

Kirk looked to his left and to his right, meeting the eyes of every bridge officer. His eyes landed on the empty spot of the science station.

“And bite back we will.” he promised.


	13. Bingo

“McCoy to Chapel.”

“Chapel here.”

“How long until they’re done with that damn sample?”

“Hematology says another few hours.”

“God damn. Alright. McCoy out.”

He angrily slapped the communicator back down on the tray. He sighed heavily and looked down at Spock. The Vulcan was completely still. The anger he felt that first day had resurfaced with a vengeance, and he found he was unable to calm his mind. He’d been staring at Spock’s shoulder since he put him out an hour ago, meticulously inspecting it for any signs of…anything. It was completely foreign to him. 

He put his thumb on one of the electric blue trails…the only part of his skin that was raised. He traced it back up to the collarbone - he wondered why this was the area all the lines were collecting. McCoy gently pulled the skin down, hoping to find a clue as to why. The moment he did so, his experienced eyes immediately noticed something his scanners hadn’t picked up. It was difficult to tell due to the pigmentation, but the area above his collarbone seemed to be inflamed. 

He squinted his eyes and leaned closer; what the hell…? Why was this area, where all these bizarre lines were accruing, inflamed? He blinked to refresh his eyes and looked again. McCoy ran his thumb across it, feeling for a crack in his bone or something of the like; there was always a reason for skin to be inflamed. Of course the action was superfluous considering he had a highly sensitive medical reader that could pick up on something like a cracked bone, but McCoy always had a sense of doubt when it came to those. I trust myself more than these machines anyway.

The more he looked at it, the more he confused he became. There was absolutely a small amount of swelling right above his collarbone, but he had no clue why. No cracked bones, no broken skin, nothing. He let out an exasperated puff of air and walked away. Until he got that damned blood sample back, there wasn’t much he could do besides twiddle his thumbs. Whatever. I’m a doctor, not a fucking god.

Snatching his book off from the shelf, he plopped down into his chair and opened to his bookmark. A few seconds passed until and he snapped it shut and tossed it aside again. Who was he kidding? His reeling mind and his twitchy heart couldn’t concentrate on anything.

— — —

Lieutenant Uhura had been cleared for mealtime and was on her way down to the canteen. Like everyone on the bridge and essentially the entire ship, her mind was on the ‘journey’ the Enterprise was currently on. The bridge had been so quiet since they turned the ship around - not a word was exchanged between the crew. 

She wanted to go and see Mister Spock in sickbay, but she and everyone else knew that was a bad idea. Spock despised vulnerability, and they had a job to keep focus on. She couldn’t afford to check on him. 

As she turned the corner, she heard a small gaggle of crewmen talking near the canteen.

“I just don’t like it.”

“I don’t either. I think the Captain let his heart think for him.”

“That’s exactly it. We had already made it so far, I can’t believe we’re going back. Have you guys heard anything else about it? Everything I’ve heard is so vague.”

“The Captain just said we’ve been credibly threatened, which must mean something happened to Commander Spock.”

“Guys, in the end, it doesn’t matter what happened. What matters is the fact we’re going back, which is ridiculous. We needed to keep going forward, and you know what, maybe it’s tough to hear, but if something was happening to the Commander…well, maybe we should have just let it happen. Yeah, we’d be down a first officer, but that’s what would’ve been best for this ship. We’re risking everybody on board for him.”

“Frankly, it’s a fortune it’s targeting Spock and not Kirk. At least Spock’s expendable.”

“Are you insane?” Uhura admonished in disbelief, walking up to them. They snapped their heads to her in sudden surprise. “‘We should have just let it happen?’ ‘He’s expendable?’ What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea what an asset that man is to this ship? To Starfleet?” She looked around at their faces, searching for their humanity. She scoffed at what she saw.

“I see how it is,” she said quietly. “I see it now. If it were happening to you, or perhaps to your friends here, it’d be different right? Whatever it takes. But Mister Spock? The mean, nasty Vulcan without a heart, more of a machine than man…that’s how you see him, isn’t it? I know it is. I’ve seen your type before. You see nothing beyond your own eyes. You’re made of nothing but cobwebs and hollow bones.”

She leaned close to the crewmen, narrowed her eyes, and whispered with dripping venom, “If that’s what you really think…and I know that it is…then you need to get the hell out of Starfleet.” 

She slowly brought her face away from theirs, her glare keeping them absolutely still. Her insides boiled. No longer hungry, she glared another dagger to the crewmen and whipped around, walking back from where she came. The bridge was where she needed to be. If she had stared at those crewmen any longer, there would have been more than Spock to worry about. 

The door swooshed as she entered the bridge and sat huffily down in her seat.

“Back already, Uhura?” Kirk rotated in his chair and looked at her.

“Not very hungry, Captain.” she answered, trying to keep the anger from her voice. He lifted a corner of his mouth in a smile and nodded, turning back around. Join the club. It didn’t seem like anyone was very hungry these days.

Kirk took a deep breath and put his chin in his palm. He’d been trying to think of a plan, but continued to come up short. There was no obvious choice for what action to make, and it made the anxiety in Kirk’s chest to rise. If they couldn’t beat their way past this, he knew he’d have to watch Spock die. And shortly after that, the Enterprise and her crew would follow. He studied the buttons on the chair’s board. 

A swish announced the arrival of another crew member. Scotty walked to the Captain’s chair and put his hand on the armrest, his fingers twitching. Curious, Kirk looked up at him. The Scotsman swallowed and adverted his eyes to the view screen. 

“What can I do for you, Scotty?” He asked. Scotty exhaled and looked to his feet.

“Captain…” he nervously met Kirk’s gaze. “I was wrong, Jim. I’m sorry. I…I genuinely thought-“

“Scotty, Scotty,” Kirk interrupted with a small smile. “You weren’t wrong. We were, maybe…but not you. In fact, you were the only one able to concoct a logical outcome, and that’s admirable my friend. Keep that kind of thinking coming, we’re still in this mess. I need that out-of-the-box strategizing. Alright?” 

A ghost of a smile crossed Scotty’s face. “Aye, Captain.”

“Sickbay to Kirk.” 

The doctor’s voice startled both officers. They exchanged glances.

“Kirk here.”

“He’s awake, Jim. And he’s pissing me off.” 

A grin blossomed on Scotty’s face and Jim tried to stifle his laugh.

“Be right down, Doctor. Scott, the conn?”

“It’d be my pleasure, Captain.” Jim gracefully leapt out of the chair and strode to the lift. A few hours passed since Kirk had caught Spock’s limp body in an empty corridor. He found his breathing became more difficult as he thought back to it. Although he consciously knew otherwise, the human in him had believed Spock was indestructible…untouchable. As he made his way to the sickbay, he tried to wonder why he had felt that way. Well, he was Vulcan for one. Vulcans were superior beings in strength and intelligence. That, and he never showed vulnerability, so it was difficult to imagine him in such a position. And, well…he was Spock. Spock was always getting Jim out of trouble, not the other way around.

“Jesus Christ in the sky, what is wrong with your grubby green brain?!” 

Kirk raised his eyebrows at the sound of a frustrated McCoy, his yelling heard down the hall. He entered medical to a familiar sight. Spock was trying to stand from his sitting position on the biobed, and McCoy was attempting to keep him down.

“You are insufferable, Spock. Insufferable. SIT DOWN!” He barked, pushing down on Spock’s shoulders. 

“Doctor McCoy, you are being highly unreasonable. It is apparent-“

“ME?! I’M BEING UNREASONABLE?! Spock, for the love of Maya Angelou in heaven, you do realize this is your second time in sickbay in less than two days? Right? Can you compute that? Fucking hell.” 

“Gentlemen.” Kirk cleared his throat and looked on at the scene. They both froze and watched him walk up to the commotion. “What’s happening here?” 

“Your shining daisy of a first officer is giving me an aneurysm, is what is happening. He wants to work, Jim. With that logic, I wouldn’t be surprised if he still believed in Santa Claus.”

“Doctor, it is highly illogical of you to even make that comparison considering the character of Santa Claus was an Earth concept and was confined to Earth alone. Being that I was born on Vulcan, I was not introduced to your vacuous tradition. Captain,” he looked to Kirk as McCoy dramatically rolled his eyes. “I understand my situation is undesirable, and I logically understand I cannot leave this room given such circumstances. However, there is no rational reason on why I cannot work from the sickbay.”

“Bones?” 

“He’s losing his mind, Jim.” tried McCoy. “He hasn’t eaten in days, his body has been through far too much stress, and frankly, he’s just, he’s losing his mind.” He waved his hand over his head, his face twitching. 

“Spock, I don’t know what to tell you, McCoy is-“

“I will stay in the sickbay, Captain. He can observe me and my progression the entirety of the day if that will ease his mind, but nonetheless, I can work.”

“What kind of work are you so hellbent on doing?” asked Jim. Spock always wanted to work, but it was particularly plucky of him to request doing so after recent events.

“I believe it would be a valuable use of my time to study and hypothesize the cause of my disability. If I can solve even a portion of it, it may prove crucial to the outcome of this entire situation. Regarding not only me, but the Enterprise-“ he stopped short, his breath hitching in his chest. Pain struck his shoulder and plummeted down his arm, jolts leaking into his chest cavity. He gripped the bed and stared at the ground, attempting to keep his focus on controlling the pain. 

Kirk moved forward, but McCoy put his arm in front of his chest to stop him.

“It’s happened a few times. It’ll pass.” he explained quietly. Moments after, Spock let out a subtle breath of relief and loosened his hands. 

“Is this going to keep happening?” Kirk asked, not sure if it was directed to Spock or McCoy. 

“I have absolutely no idea, Jim. Everything that happens from here on out is a guessing game. I have no way of predicting it.” answered the doctor. Kirk nodded his head and bit his lip. He looked at Spock.

“I think we should let him work, Bones.” 

McCoy shook his head and swallowed. “See, I’m not surprised by that.” The fire in his voice had gone. 

“You just said it yourself, Bones. Everything is a guessing game. We have nothing to go on. What did hematology say about the blood?”

“They just got back to me. They don’t know what the fuck they’re looking at.” he answered, looking at the ground. He was defeated. Not only in this argument, but as a doctor. The fulfillment in his work was deflating. 

“Maybe Spock can figure it out. We both know how infuriatingly smart he is…it’s worth a shot.” 

McCoy sighed and nodded. “Yeah, maybe. He’s not getting any better, so, why the hell not.” 

Kirk looked back to Spock, his eyes serious. “I don’t want you leaving sickbay, for anything. Not without McCoy.” Spock nodded. He understood. Kirk softened his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” 

“At the moment, Jim, yes.” 

“Alright. Keep me posted.” He turned and walked a few steps away, but stopped. He didn’t want Spock straining himself with the situation, but he was still his first officer. Kirk took his opinion invaluably. He licked his bottom lip and turned back around. “I had a briefing with Sulu earlier, he told me about the map that was programmed into navigations. This star cluster, it’s smaller than we originally thought. It wasn’t even on Starfleet’s first observation charts. Sulu thinks that based off the coordinates, the crystals are probably coming from a moon orbiting a dead planet. Thoughts?”

“Captain, you already know my stance on going back. However, that aside, I would say Lieutenant Sulu’s deduction sounds logically accurate. What is your plan, Captain?” 

Kirk bit his lip. He put his hands on his hips and looked down to the floor. McCoy had been right - it was a no win scenario. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. He looked back up to Spock.

“I think we need to try and destroy them.” 

“Captain?”

“I’ve been thinking, Spock. And I don’t think we have any other option.”

Spock stared at him, completely silent. It was almost eerie, Spock not having anything to say. Kirk opened his mouth, deciding he should probably expand.

“Well, think of it this way. We now know they can reach us, and harm us. Kill us, I’m sure. So that means you’re gonna die, and we’re all gonna die. If we’re all gonna die anyway, why not try taking them down first?” He took a few steps closer to him. “I know you, Spock. I know you wouldn’t just let them take this ship down without a fight. I’m not going to, either.”

Spock nodded. His friend was right.

“You would be correct, Jim. I have no intention on losing the Enterprise if I could take action against it. However, I must ask why we are on course for the crystals when you intend on attacking the alien species anyway.”

“Because I need you with me when we attack them.”

McCoy crossed his arms and looked between the two of them. He blinked and wondered how, in all of the universe, the two of them were brought together to serve side by side. How he was able to serve with them. 

“And if they know when we’re off course, then they know when we’re on course.” continued Kirk. “They’ll stop doing this to you when they realize we’re getting those crystals, and you’ll be back on the bridge when we fire those torpedoes.”

Spock’s face softened hardly enough for Kirk to notice.

“Captain, you’re insinuating you will in fact retrieve the crystals, even if you have no intention on giving them to the aliens. If we were to stand no chance against them, and they were to still receive the crystals…I am doubting that my extended life would be a fair trade for that.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not changing my mind.”

Spock exhaled. He had predicted it to McCoy earlier; Jim couldn’t let him die, even in the face of logic.

“What if we go to where these crystals are, show ‘em we’re there…but don’t actually pick any up?” suggested McCoy. “So far as we know, they can only tell if we’re on our way or not.”

“An interesting thought, Doctor, however they did mention these crystals prove critical to the functioning of their lives.” said Spock. “The alien exhibited highly advanced senses, and it would be unwise to assume the species cannot sense these crystals. I would assume that was your line of thought, Captain?”

“You would be right, Spock. I think we have to get them for this to even have the possibly of working.”

“And you’ll destroy the crystals prior to attacking the planet, I presume?” questioned McCoy dryly. 

“Bingo.” smiled Kirk. McCoy raised his eyebrow and shook his head. A starship had the unquestionable power to destroy planets and civilizations. Telekinetic civilizations, perhaps. 

“It just might work, Jim.” said the doctor. “But it might not. That’s a fat chance you’re taking a risk on.”

Kirk shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got to go on, Bones.” His eyes went back to Spock. The more they knew about the alien species, the better. So far, however, they knew close to nothing. The only physical clue they had to their powers was Spock’s debilitated arm, and there was one person left that could possibly attempt to understand that.

“What do you need for your work, Spock?”


	14. Finite Vortices

“At least let me give you a hypo.” asserted McCoy. Spock shook his head, his good hand gripping the desk and his eyes clenched shut. McCoy exhaled loudly and hung his head. Spock had been periodically barraged by micro attacks since he’d woken up and refused any kind of medical help. It was frustrating beyond measure to the doctor. Spock visibly loosened as the pain dissipated.

“The last time I accepted one of your hyposprays, I regretted it. That, and I believe they would prove ineffective nevertheless.”

“How much work could you possibly be doing when this happens every ten minutes?” 

“I am doing more work than I would be doing in that biobed, McCoy. As I told you minutes ago, I have found several inconsistencies that hematology could not find. Would I have discovered those things had I been resting?”

“Whatever. Can any of those ‘inconsistencies’ save you from this situation?” He lifted the medical scanner and waved it over Spock. He tsked at the readings.

“No, Doctor. They cannot. They’re the pieces of a puzzle I have not yet solved.”

“I need to get something in you, Spock. You’re gonna keel over from lack of food before that bum arm gets ya.” 

“Charming, doctor.” mumbled Spock as he lifted his eye to the microscope. He’d been mystified by his blood results. The genetic make-up remained in tact, but the basic compounds of the infected blood were distorted. It was extremely bizarre, and entirely fascinating. It was also slightly frightening. 

“I didn’t say that out loud for the hell of talking to myself, Spock. You need to eat. You have to.”

“My physical stance on that subject has not altered from yesterday.” He tightened in on a particularly strange group of cells. He had found a few similar to this cluster, where the nuclei were far too many. He had shown McCoy earlier, but the doctor just huffed and vehemently scratched his head.

“Then I’m gonna have to give you an intravenous injection. And I swear on a witch’s hammer, any argument you have against that is hereby overruled.”

Spock’s shoulders sunk and he leaned back in his chair. Of course he understood that his body was failing and consumptions could help overcome that, however that did not change the fact that he simply did not want to. He offered his prime arm to the doctor.

“You won’t feel so nauseous with this in you.” McCoy offered as some kind of consolation as he lifted the injection to the light. He grasped Spock’s arm tightly and pushed the vile fillings into his vein. “There, see? That’s wasn’t so bad, was it? Did you want a lollipop on your way out?”

Spock blinked at him and turned back into the microscope. McCoy looked to the ceiling for strength. He wanted to break past that damned barrier of his, to illicit something from the Vulcan. Everyone else on the ship was losing their marbles in exhaustion and stress, yet dying Spock here was sitting with his head on straight and his eyeballs glued to his tools. 

“So what’s gonna happen if you realize there’s no solving this?” he asked candidly as he plopped into the chair perpendicular to the desk, crossing his legs. Spock raised his head from the scope and looked forward to the wall. These were waters he had no intention of treading in.

“That is an illogical question, Doctor.”

“Is it? Is it something you’ve considered? It must have been. Don’t you think now is as good a time as any to talk about it?”

“I fail to see what there is to talk about.”

“You’re dying, Spock.” he whispered intensely, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in his chair. Spock dragged his eyes away from the wall and met McCoy’s gaze. “You were almost killed, twice. You were forced to endure things you never thought you’d have to endure. But here you are, your damn nose in a microscope, as if it’s another dilemma at a takeaway planet.”

“What would you have me do, Doctor McCoy? Suffocate in self pity and allow the path of the destruction of the Enterprise to go unobscured? Perhaps that is a better course of action for yourself, however I do not find satisfaction in that route. Clearly I have work to be done, so-“ 

“Oh mother Mary, would you cut the act for a second, Spock? Your lack of eating isn’t just being caused by…” he gestured to his left arm. “…that bullshit. It’s affecting you, psychologically. It has to be.” McCoy leaned in towards Spock.. 

“Even now, when all the hope seems gone and pain blinds you every quarter of an hour, you still can’t allow your human half to peek out.” 

Spock stared back into McCoy’s eyes, his breathing increasing only enough for himself to know. He despised spending extended solitary time with Leonard McCoy. 

“I believe you need to reflect on your own psychological wellbeing, McCoy.” He said in a low voice. McCoy scoffed. He nodded slowly and leaned back out of Spock’s bubble. 

“Yeah, well, I know who I am.” He replied, his gaze lingering for a moment after. He turned to leave, throwing over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to check out that inflammation I told you about.”

Spock exhaled and looked down at the desk as the door closed. He knew he’d be back soon; he wouldn’t let Spock out of his sight for more than 60 seconds. 

He lightly grabbed his left shoulder, testing the pain upon touch. It was highly sensitive. He prodded his thumb into his collarbone, the area where McCoy said was inflamed. An alarming shock of pain accompanied the touch and his hand jumped away, his eyebrows furrowing in pain and surprise. It was a curious observation on the doctor’s side, and it was also a reasonable question. Why an inflamed collarbone? 

He had inspected it before, and as McCoy had pointed out, there was no broken skin or abrasions. He absolutely believed there was a connection between that mystery and the mystery of what was happening to his arm, but he was forced to abandon the study of it as he continued to meet dead ends. 

“Maybe there is no reason,” McCoy had said to him when Spock shared his findings. “Maybe they’re just so advanced, we don’t understand it. There doesn’t have to be a reason. Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself.” Spock couldn’t remember what he had grumbled after that.

The doctor was highly experienced and exceedingly capable, thus leading him to find the small outlier in Spock’s skin. However, Spock could not agree with his conclusion. Unexplainable telekinetic abilities were one thing, but things pertaining to a physical body? Spock believed with his entire being that all things fell slave to physics of the universe, and in an extended sense, inflammation of the skin was caused by some sort of act of physics. There must be a reason.

He tossed his scope stylus on the desk and leaned back. He had never experienced such a definite halt in his work before. His shoulder twitched. Biting his lower lip, he sat up and prepared himself for the inevitable pain that was about to accompany him. 

— — —

Kirk raised his eyebrows in a question.

“He’s driving me crazy, Jim. I needed a walk. Chapel’s down there, he can reach her if he needs to.” McCoy grumbled in reply. He plopped his hand on the captain’s armrest and stared out the view screen. He’d been a little harsh with the Vulcan, and a part of his heart felt guilty about that. But the man had been entirely frustrating for the last few days, McCoy’s stomach grumbled in hunger, and the bags under his eyes tugged at him annoyingly. ‘On edge’ was an understatement.

“When are we supposed to get there?” he asked, his fingers tapping on the chair. 

“Seven hours. Are you alright?” Jim peered at his friend. McCoy looked at him defensively. 

“Whattya mean am I alright? I’m fine, Jim, why-? It should be me asking you if you’re alright!Are you alright, Jim?”

Kirk chuckled and shook his head. “You just look like you’ve seen better days, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, thinking back to our last shore leave, which seemed like ages ago by the way, I’d agree - I’ve seen some better days.” He replied sourly, adjusting his weight. 

“He make any lee-way?” Kirk asked bleakly. McCoy shook his head.

“Well. Seems like we’re going in torpedoes blazing.” summed up Kirk, staring at a bight star in the distance. Sulu adjusted his seating and turned his ear towards the talking men.

“It would seem that way.” agreed McCoy. 

“Did he see anything in the blood? Anything abnormal?” 

“Ha! Oh Christ, it was definitely abnormal, Jim. I saw it too. The infected cells are spreading rapidly to one another, that’s for certain.”

“So it is spreading? It’s growing?”

“Yep.” McCoy chewed on the inside of his cheek. The closer the infection got to Spock’s heart, the more McCoy’s sunk. Earlier that day, he thought he was going to be sick when he checked on the infection and saw it had gained a few inches down his torso. He shook his head. “And the infected cells…well they’re strange for sure. Some of ‘em have multiple nuclei, some of ‘em have no nuclei…it should be physically impossible.” He laughed quietly. “And get this Jim…he found a a few cells coated in cilliphan.”

“Cilliphan? What the hell is that?”

“It’s an extremely rare cellular capsule, and it’s not from Vulcan or Earth. There’s never been a recording of the capsule affecting a sentient body. And contrary to what he might say out loud, he has no idea what the hell it means.”

Sulu turned back forward, his stomach twisting. He blinked at his controls and looked back to Kirk. “Captain? If possible, I think I’d like to take a necessary rest period.”

Kirk and McCoy simultaneously looked at him, McCoy stepping forward.

“Are you alright, Sulu?”

“Yes, of course, perfectly alright. I just need to take a walk.” he swallowed. Chekhov looked at his counterpart in concern, wondering what prompted the sudden, uncharacteristic request. Kirk felt similarly. Sulu never asked for rest periods. 

“Of course, Mister Sulu, do what you need to do. Chekhov, can you handle the helm?”

“Yes, Keptin.”

Kirk nodded at Sulu, who rose and promptly exited the bridge. Kirk exchanged a glance with McCoy. 

“It seems everyone’s on edge around here. Why don’t you go back and check in on our first officer…I can’t help but be worried about him.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You let me know right away if anyone around here needs a medical checkup. You got me?”

“I gotcha, McCoy. Go on.”

The doctor half smiled at him and trailed off to the turbolift, glancing around the room for any more signs of stressed officers. God, he needed to sleep.

He waited outside medical for a few minutes, relishing Spock’s absence. Not in a sense that he couldn’t stand Spock himself, but in the sense that watching the Vulcan made his insides churn and his anxiety to shoot through the roof. Spock’s skin never gained it’s healthy pigmentation since the original incident, and even the slightest wince of pain cut through McCoy’s heart. He was supposed to hate that man, not feel overwhelming concern at his existence. He exhaled heavily and mentally prepared himself for the damning sight of that infection. Is it an infection? Jesus fuck, I don’t even know what to call that. Satan’s landscaping, is what it is. 

“Doctor McCoy, he’s still working.” Chapel said disapprovingly as he entered the room. She looked across the room at Spock, who was seemingly blind to everything in the room but his microscope and PADD. 

“Eh, let him work. I don’t give a shit.” He flopped his hand in the air and snagged his scanner from the table. Chapel’s eyebrows shot up, completely caught off guard.

“He’s…but-“

“Christine.” He turned around and put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s in bed, he’s dying. He’s at the desk, he’s dying. But at the desk, he has a chance of stopping his dying. So, let him work. I don’t give a shit.” She blinked at him and watched him stride over to Spock, waving his scanner. She shook her head to herself, scratched her forehead, and suddenly had the overwhelming need for black coffee. Black coffee with Irish whiskey, more specifically, but she somehow doubted that was going to happen at the moment. She sighed and retreated to the cafe. 

“How many times did it happen?” McCoy asked bluntly as he checked him over. Spock took a moment to record his notes and set the stylus down.

“Three.”

“Three times?! I was only gone for 20 minutes!” Spock nodded and put his head back to the scope. 

“What else are you feeling?” McCoy insisted. He knew there was more to it. He thought he heard Spock sigh.

“I am obviously not in prime condition, Doctor. My mind is distracted and I have trouble concentrating. I feel very weak, and every movement I make is a battle. It is becoming worse.”

McCoy nodded, expecting something akin to that answer. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. There was nothing he could do to help him. The passion he once possessed to become a doctor was the frustration he felt now at becoming useless. He felt a twinge of regret at their earlier conversation. 

“The next time you have an episode strong enough to make you lose consciousness, you might not wake up.” he stated, more gentler than he was before.

“I have considered that.”

McCoy pressed his lips together and nodded. Conversing the future of a patient normally went differently. 

“I don’t know what to say.” he said honestly. 

“There is nothing to be said, Doctor. We have found ourselves in an unfortunate predicament and we can do nothing but continue to work to resolve it, or as I’ve heard countless humans say, ‘die trying.’” 

McCoy opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again. His eyes went to his feet. He turned and walked towards his office.

“Doctor,” Spock’s voice had him stop and look back to the Vulcan. When McCoy locked eyes with Spock, he continued. “There is nothing that can be done, medically. Do not put blame on yourself for matters out of our reach.” 

McCoy swallowed when Spock turned back into his work. He stared at him for a few moments longer, then slowly turned back around and walked to his office. 

Spock heard his door close and he put his PADD down. His muscles ached and a permanent mist of fatigue had settled over him. Every breath he took, he felt. A small tremor quaked in his shoulder. 

The more he studied the blood and the situation, the more realism set in. He could find no logical outcome where he survived this. Trust and belief in Kirk, he possessed, yes. Kirk could possibly save the Enterprise when he attacked the planet, perhaps. It was a steep chance, yet there was a chance. For himself, however…he was accepting his own outcome. Killing the hostile aliens would not mean Spock’s ailments would disappear. He would still die. He ran his thumb across his hand, pondering the thought. 

He did not fear death. He never had. He did, however, fear time. Time with James Kirk and the Enterprise, time to further discover the galaxy and the universe, and time to see the stars over and over again. It was those things he regretted as he thought about his demise. Regret and fear on not having enough time. Another snap of pain ran down his bones - a vile reminder of his subsequent future.


	15. Closer to the Edge

Strict pain tethered into his body, and he found himself leaning against the desk he sat at. He clenched his fists into tight balls, his forearm resting against the glass. His breath cut off in his throat, and he realized this was not like the attacks he had before. It tore at his ligaments and nerves, scratched into his bones. A staccato gasp escaped, a quiet exclamation of surprise and pain. He wanted to call for McCoy, for Chapel…anybody to help him. A yearning for that quick and heavy anesthesia McCoy last used became apparent. In an attempt to pierce past the pain, he racked his mind at where McCoy said he would be. Was it the bridge…? No. The engineering deck? 

After an uncertain amount of time, a rolling wave of relief washed from his head to his feet. It prickled out of his body until he was left with nothing but heavy breaths and a shaken mind. His fists shook against his will. 

He was going to die. It was coming. He felt it in his body. Fear did not overcome him, nor did it cloud his thoughts. A setting weight of acceptance filled him instead. 

He slowly sat back up as his mind cleared and he caught his breath. He coughed and jabbed at his PADD, looking up their course details. They were almost there…an hour longer. The reason the Captain turned back to the star cluster in the first place was because he believed Spock would be spared. They had been racing towards that dead moon with the crystals for hours. _So why am I still dying?_  

He heard footsteps around the corner, near the entrance to sickbay. He lifted his head just as Sulu came around the corner, their eyes immediately meeting. Sulu stopped straight in his tracks when he saw the paleness of the first officer’s skin and the barely visible sheen of sweat. He opened his mouth and forgot what he was there to say to him. 

“Mister Sulu.” addressed Spock. His voice was somewhat gravelly, but still strong and confident. Sulu blinked and gained his ground.

“Commander Spock, I came here because I think I might know something about what you’re looking at.” Spock raised his eyebrow, the unexpected statement finding his ears. His eyes flicked to and from what was in Sulu’s hand - a potted flower.

“…I don’t believe I informed anyone but McCoy of my findings thus far-”

“I know, I overheard him talking to the Captain. He said that you had found cells with abnormal amounts of nuclei, and that some of them even had a coating of Cilliphan.” Sulu responded with a sense of intent that gave him Spock’s attention. 

“What do you know, Lieutenant?” Curiosity mixed with urgency.

“This flower, Commander,” Sulu began, taking a few quick steps to the desk and setting the plant down. “This flower is an Angurian Jade flower. It’s very rare and can only grow in the fourth quadrant of the galaxy.”

“I do not understand how this is related to our present situation, Mister Sulu.” He shook his head tiredly. 

“Sir, the flower…look for yourself. Take a sample of DNA. Look at it, under the scope.” 

Spock cocked his head, his eyes looking at Sulu like this sample of DNA had better have the answer written in text for him. He plucked a needle from the box and gently scraped the interior of the flower, tapping it onto the scope platform. Carefully, he raised his head and studied into the device. 

Sulu watched as Spock’s body visibly tensed at the discovery. 

“Where did you get this flower, Sulu?”

“From Anguria, Spock. We had stopped there on a supply exchange 200 days ago. One of the Ambassadors learned I was also a botanist enthusiast, as he so happened to be. He gave it to me.”

“But the Cilliphan…”

“As rare as Cilliphan is, sir, 93% of all discovered Cilliphan has been on these Jade flowers.” Spock shook his head, no words coming to mind.

“It’s not a well known fact, sir. Cilliphan isn’t a main concern to the Federation. Just all the damn way out here, and to flower aficionados like me. And Spock…these flowers are venomous.” 

Spock nodded, his eyes shining at the helmsman. The lieutenant may have just solved the equation when no one else could.

“That means…”

“Yes, Spock. We weren’t wrong. They _were_ lying. They somehow were able to get that toxin in you, probably when the alien had a hold of you on the bridge.”

“And that means they are not controlling what’s happening to me.” Spock discovered quietly. “If I am being affected by a toxin, then I would have been affected whether we went to those crystals or not.”

Sulu nodded, grim. “They probably assumed we’d try and leave the course, and we would then discover that you were dying. And that’s exactly what happened. Of course we assumed it was because of them, that they were reaching us and killing you. But that’s not it.”

“It’s this venom.” Spock stood to match level with Sulu, but he staggered as the movement briefly blacked his mind. Quickly, Sulu shot out his hand to steady him with wide eyes and concern. Spock gently waved him off and straightened up. 

“Is there an antidote?” he asked. Sulu swallowed, and Spock knew before he answered. 

“No. We still don’t know much about the flower, the DNA, or the toxin. We just…we’re too far behind in this. If this had happened three years from now…”

Spock shook his head and looked to a photo on the wall, a mixture of relief and strange sadness filling his emotions. Relief at knowing the Enterprise was almost certainly safe. It went without saying that the alien’s manipulation of the venom proved they were unable to destroy a starship, especially with their absence. Their race was still entirely volatile and unknown, but it was clear they had limitations. After a few moments of staring, he registered the photo. It was of Doctor McCoy and his medical staff, dated two years ago. 

He felt a quiet simmer of sorrow as he realized there really was no antidote.

“But…maybe we can figure it out, Spock. Maybe it will affect you differently, because you’re a Vulcan. It’s not over yet.” Sulu said, pushing for hope. Spock knew otherwise. He knew it would be fatal. 

“Perhaps, Mister Sulu. It is not over yet.” he lied. His hands shook at his side in fatigue. Breathing had become painful, his lungs feeling as if they were lined with chemicals. After officially knowing he was going to die, he almost felt anxious to be rid of the pain. “Have you already informed the captain?” 

“No, I wanted to confirm my theory before telling him.”

“We must do so immediately.” Spock stepped to the medical communicator. “Sickbay to bridge.”

“Kirk here.”

“Captain. I believe you and the doctor should come down here. Mister Sulu has made a remarkable breakthrough in our situation.”

“We’re on our way.” Ah. So McCoy was on the bridge.

On the bridge, Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances. A confused excitement found both of them, at the fact there was a breakthrough and at the fact that the previously excused Sulu was apparently involved in it. They practically bounded to the turbo lift.

“Didn’t Sulu ask for a rest period a few hours ago, when I was up here before?” asked McCoy, lifting his eyebrow.

“Yes, he did.” Kirk scratched the inside of his thumb. “I really hope this is the breakthrough we need, Bones.” he admitted. He saw McCoy nod beside him.

“Me too, Jimbo. I’m ready to take one of those pretty blue pills and conk out for 12 hours.” Kirk chuckled quietly. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind that either. 

“Last time you gave me one of those, I slept so god damn well.” he laughed. “Thank God for medical advancement.”

“Ha! God? The chemical makeup of that pill was actually discovered by a man named Gerodi Damato, Jim. Thank Gerodi.”

Kirk laughed again and raise a fake glass. “Thanks, Gerodi.” They grew silent as the turbo lift doors opened. 

They rushed into Medical in tandem to the sight of Spock and Sulu standing over a PADD. They both looked up and met the eyes of the arriving men. 

“Spock.” Kirk acknowledged, taking note of his appearance. His demeanor was strong, but he looked so unwell. His face somehow seemed thinner and he was leaning ever so slightly against the desk. 

“Captain. Mister Sulu has something rather important to share.”

“Go on then.” 

“Captain,” started Sulu. “the abnormal cells in Spock’s blood are almost identical to the cells in this very rare flower.” he lifted the Jade.  “Seeing as the flower is toxic, I think it’s safe to assume that that alien somehow injected the toxin into Spock’s blood. Probably from first contact.” he glanced nervously at Spock, neither of them wanting to say it. “But there’s no antidote, sir.”

Jim’s eyes hollowed and his stomach dropped to his feet. Quickly, Sulu continued. “But - knowing that Spock has been poisoned, we know that they aren’t controlling the situation like we thought. If they can’t control Spock, they can’t control the Enterprise. She’s safe.”

McCoy stared at Sulu, frozen. They wouldn’t have to declare war on that planet…but Spock would die. The 400 person crew was no longer in danger and they would live, but Spock would die. 

“You’re certain?” Kirk managed.

“Yes, sir.” 

“When did you discover this?”

“On the bridge, Doctor McCoy was explaining to you Spock’s strange condition. I overheard, and the things he described sounded somehow familiar to me.”

“Eavesdropping, Lieutenant?” Kirk teased dryly. Sulu chuckled nervously.

“Yes, well, McCoy wasn’t exactly whispering.” McCoy raised his eyebrows. “Anyway, Captain, I asked to take that rest period because I knew that I had the answer, somewhere. I had to find it. After looking in a few of my reports, I found the one on this flower. I tested it in my quarters, and I was right. It’s the same thing as what’s got Spock.”

“And it’s fatal?” demanded McCoy. Kirk winced, not wanting to hear the question or the answer. Sulu barely nodded.

“Almost certainly.” 

Kirk rubbed his jaw. It was all logical, it all made sense. It had to poison Spock to kill him, because it was unable to with it’s abilities. The Enterprise really was safe. They could just, warp out of their course and continue forward. Nothing would happen to the ship.

“There has to be something we can do.” he muttered. “Do you think that if these aliens were advanced enough to develop a toxin from this, that they could have the antidote?”

Spock shook his head. “Captain, you cannot risk the ship on my behalf. We must warp out of this area immediately.”

“Could they have the antidote?” he pressed. Spock sighed.

“Yes, Jim. Hypothetically, they are more advanced than us. They could have it. But they would kill us all before giving it to us, it is simply out of the question.”

“Hold on, now.” butted McCoy. “I found no evidence of a puncture from an injection. How did it get in his system?” 

“Well, it had it’s hand reached out.” noted Kirk. “It was obviously controlling the wires…and some kind of reformed matter was constructed from the air. It must have been what was leading the wires, encapsulating them. Did you guys see it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I saw it too. I had thought the same thing.” nodded Sulu. 

“But that doesn’t explain _where_ it was injected.” McCoy put his hands on his hips. As a doctor, he needed every detail before coming to any kind of conclusion. And he needed a confirmed conclusion before accepting that Spock’s condition was fatal. 

A reserved stab cut through Spock’s shoulder, aching into his bones. He winced slightly, when suddenly, a realization hit. The missing piece…

“Doctor…the inflammation above my collarbone.” 

McCoy quickly looked over to Spock in combined revelation. It actually made sense.

“I didn’t know about the inflammation,” offered Sulu. “But the Angurian Jade flower naturally emits it’s poison through the stem’s pores, as a defense against predators. It’s actually a moisture rather than a liquid; it soaks into the predator’s skin the moment contact is made. I don’t know if that helps…”

McCoy’s jaw dropped open and he stared incredulously at the helmsman. 

“Are you kidding, that exactly describes his condition!” 

“Well when I overheard you and the captain, I only heard about the cells!” he said. McCoy scratched the back of his neck and stared at the floor. He had spent so much time fretting about that strange collarbone, and out of the damn ether Sulu had the answer the entire time. 

“The collarbone.” agreed Spock. He felt a massive weight lift from his shoulders. It was immensely satisfying solving the puzzle he once thought unsolvable. Finally, things were becoming clear and logical. Exactly the way Spock liked them to be. 

Kirk chewed on this thumb and shook his head. No. He wasn’t going to accept that Spock was going to die and he would just have to sit there and let it happen. He refused to be idle. 

“There must be _something we can do.”_ he whispered intensely, looking and speaking only to Spock. He internally cursed him as Spock shook his damn head again.

“No, Jim,” he refuted. “There is not. Not without risking the ship.”

Kirk tapped his heel and looked down to his feet, his blood boiling. “Gentlemen, I need a moment with my first officer.” he said without looking up. Sulu and McCoy exchanged glances and simultaneously left the room. Silence settled in their wake.

Spock held Kirk’s distressed gaze, the pulsing pain in his chest becoming ignored. He breathed through his nose heavily as he felt his weariness. 

“Why can’t we talk about this?” said Kirk, finally.

“The best alternative for the ship is for us to do nothing.”

“We’re less than five hours away from that moon, Spock.” he tried. “Why don’t we keep going, see what’s over there?”

“Because it is a dangerous destination given to us by a dangerous alien. It said the crystal was a life source, that they must have it. Most likely to energize a ship or themselves to leave. There could be colonies of this race near that moon, Jim. There would be no hope for our crew, then.”

“Sulu said the entire star cluster has 100% readings on being dead. There’s nothing out there.”

“If the aliens were indeed thriving there, our sensors would not detect them, as they did not detect the banished aliens on that planet.”

“But - wait! Why would it send us to retrieve crystals where the rest of it’s race lived?” Kirk started pacing. He waved his arm in the air as he spoke. “They’d know their race would either kill us or at least question us, don’t you think? They’d never get the crystals they sent us here to retrieve! It doesn’t make any sense! It must be dead, Spock.”

“It is a compelling argument, Jim. However, I have not changed my opinion.”

“Why not?” Kirk stepped closer to him. “‘It’s a compelling argument.’ You agree. There’s nothing out there. To what danger would the ship be in? It would be the same risk as turning back around into different uncharted space.”

“Jim, what could possibly be there that could stop this? There will not be a box laid out on the moon’s surface with the antidote, waiting for us.”

“Easy with the sass, Spock, your human’s showing.” he muttered. Spock raised an eyebrow. “It’s five hours away, Spock. That’s a snap in the eyes of space. It would be illogical _not_ to go.” 

“I would not go to such lengths as that, Captain. But I will not fight you if that is what you choose to do. I only remind you that the moment our ship is in any kind of danger, you must abandon this idea.”

“I know, Spock. I have the ship’s best interest in mind, as well. I also have your best interest in mind. You knew I wouldn’t just accept what you both had to say to me without a fight.”

“Yes, I knew. Just as you knew I would refute it.”

Kirk smiled and scoffed. Somethings would never change, not even in a crisis. He nodded at him and took a few steps back.

“Stay here, don’t strain yourself.” he said, walking towards the exit. “We’re gonna pick up speed.”

Kirk left him alone, striding out past the doors. As he walked briskly past McCoy and Sulu in the hall, he thew over his shoulder,

“Let’s punch it.”


	16. The One Who Can't

Spock sat, alone, at the desk. Kirk had dashed to the bridge twenty minutes ago, his blood pumping with a new hope. Spock did not share his Captain’s euphoria. 

He tried meditating, to focus on something other than the overwhelming ripping of his arm and chest. However, he found he could not focus. It was simply too distracting. ‘You need to lay down, Spock,’ McCoy had told him. ‘Rest. Don’t strain yourself,’. 

He glanced over to the biobed several feet behind him as McCoy’s incessant voice found his memories. Spock knew, given his Vulcan intuition or something else, that he would not live much longer. It would seem to be wrong to lie in bed, waiting for death. Perhaps something more productive. Thus, he found himself at that desk, the act of sitting in front of his microscope giving the impression of fulfillment. He sighed and gripped his arm, waiting for a tremor to pass. He didn’t realize he had clenched his eyes shut until McCoy’s voice entered the blackness. 

“Spock.” it prodded gently. “I can put you out until we get to that moon.” 

Prior to this entire ordeal, McCoy had barely seen Spock show any pain. To suddenly see it so clearly etched in the man’s face, for days without break…

As McCoy expected, Spock shook his head and opened his eyes, trying as he could to hide the vulnerability. 

“No, Doctor. Thank you, but, I would prefer to stay awake.” 

McCoy scratched the back of his neck and chewed the inside of his lip. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. There was an air of knowing, between both of them. Kirk couldn’t accept it. As a doctor, McCoy could. Perhaps there was a string of hope somewhere in his heart, hope that _something_ could save Spock. But he knew not to dwell on it, as Kirk was doing. Hope is deadly in situations where it hardly exists. 

Spock leaned forward and gripped the desk, his eyes pained and hollowing. His skin turned a few shades paler.

“Spock?” McCoy stepped forward. He lifted his hand and made a move to put it on the Vulcan’s shoulder, but stopped it right before contact. It hovered for a few moments before dropping back to his side. 

“Nausea?” 

Spock barely nodded his head, attempting as best he could to still his vision. The room spun dangerously and black spots danced over the desk. 

The doctor wanted to suggest a hypo, but he knew it would be a waste of time. Suddenly, Spock jerked forward, breathing heavily in pain and surprise. A suffocating immerse of heat sunk into his skin and settled over his lungs. His chest tightened and forced breaths barely made it past his throat. The heat sunk deeper as he realized how difficult it suddenly was to breath.  _Do not panic,_ he told himself. _Do not panic. Your body will not breath if you panic._

McCoy saw something dire flicker in Spock’s eyes as his hands tightened on the desk. Fear gripped McCoy as Spock’s body twitched, his mouth opening in a startled panic.

“Spock!” He didn’t hesitate this time when he placed his hand on his shoulder, leaning down to look at the Vulcan’s face. His skin was turning grey.

In a shaky attempt, Spock lifted himself from the desk and immediately fell. His lungs continued to constrict and his vision blackened. He saw nothing but the breaths he couldn’t inhale. 

Unbeknownst to Spock, McCoy was right beside him as he fell. McCoy snatched his arms and fell with him to the ground, trying as he could to keep him steady. He looked at Spock’s face again, reading the look in his eyes. The Vulcan started shaking, his lungs gasping desperately for oxygen. McCoy frantically listed through his brain what could be happening - collapsed lung? Pierced lung? Internal bleeding? McCoy’s heart pounded against his ribs as he gently pushed against Spock’s shoulder and eased him down to the floor before bolting to the wall cabinet. 

He almost tripped as he skirted over, ripping the doors open and fishing out the oxygen mask. He raced back and dropped to his knees. 

“Breath, Spock. Concentrate.” He pressed it against his skin. It didn’t seem to be working as Spock’s neck arched against the floor, any remaining color draining from his face. McCoy half lifted him into his arms, positioning him so his lungs had more room. His free arm pushed against the mask. 

It didn’t matter. Spock could feel it begin to take over him…a dense numbness, spreading to his neck and into his head, drowning out reality and awareness. It overcame his mind, buzzing out his nerves and the pain. It filled into his ears and his eyes began to close. The collapsing of his desperate breaths was now only a dull pressure on his chest. 

McCoy felt Spock’s body loosen in his arms and his head fell slowly backwards. He was feebly fighting back the darkness, but it was too much. He pushed further into the doctor’s arms as his muscles failed to hold the collapse. The fight of his muscles disappeared and he finally fell limp into McCoy. His breathless gasping decreased to silence. His head hung over the doctor’s arm.

“Spock!” McCoy’s voice broke as he tried desperately to push the air into his lungs. Nothing. 

He reached above his head into the needle drawer, his fingers searching frantically. He clumsily clawed open the case and snatched a few, most dropping as he brought his arm down. He held one in a clenched fist, positioning it above Spock’s side. It was a reckless chance he was taking; Vulcan’s had very specific organ placement, and a collapsed lung may not even be at fault. 

He didn’t have a choice.

He forcefully brought his fist down and pierced it into the Vulcan’s side. The mask sucked an ocean of air into his lungs and the previously unmoving Vulcan coughed violently. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed McCoy’s arm as his body gasped for the precious air. McCoy tightened his grip as Spock involuntarily strained with each intake of air.

“Breath, you green bastard, breath!” He growled. Spock finally fell weakly into McCoy, his chest still breathing heavily. He managed to keep his eyes open, but his focus had a layer of fog and haze. Every fiber of energy he possessed had evaporated. He couldn’t even process he was on the ground in the doctor’s arms - all he saw were blurs of colors and all he heard was a low, filtered buzzing. 

“God dammit, Spock.” McCoy managed between his own breathing. The sudden collapse had shaken McCoy in an almost panicked fear. 

They sat in their heap on the floor, McCoy half letting Spock catch his breath and half catching his own. How was he going to watch Spock die? He knew it was coming, it was coming closer and closer with every passing minute. 

Spock was barely conscious. McCoy had his arm wrapped under Spock’s shoulders, his forehead resting against the doctor’s upper arm. McCoy’s other hand cramped at the intense grip he had on the oxygen mask. 

“Chapel!” he yelled finally. “Chapel, I need your help!” 

She didn’t answer. Wasn’t she just in the main area? He let out a loud sigh of despair.

“CHAPEL!” 

She darted into the room, catching the door frame to stop her momentum. She hesitated for two seconds before joining the men on the floor.

“What happened?”

“I think his lungs collapsed, he’s really out of it. Help me get him up.”

“Doctor, the Captain buzzed medical a few minutes ago. He said he was coming down.” She warned.

McCoy growled. “Fuck. Great timing, Jim. He’s going to lose his damn mind when he sees him. Come on.” Still high from the adrenaline, McCoy couldn’t hear the shakiness in his voice. It didn’t escape Chapel.

He snaked his arm under Spock’s neck, supporting his head. The mask had long latched itself onto Spock, but McCoy was still reluctant to let go of it. He clenched his hand into a fist as he released the mask. They lifted him and carried him back to the bed, the monitor beeping to life.

Christine gasped. 

“Doctor, his K3 reading…!” McCoy’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto the monitor. Spock’s K3 level, the heart, was dangerously below the red line. 

Simultaneously, the nurse and the doctor grabbed a side of Spock’s shirt and lifted it above and over his head, discarding it to the floor. 

McCoy’s stomach dropped to his feet. The venomous markings had spread further down his chest, the blue lines snaking above where his heart was. Most of his skin was a sickening mix of black and red. 

Somehow, McCoy knew he was standing in the doorway. He turned around and met the paralyzed eyes of Kirk. The shock of the oxygen mask, the grey complexion, the now quieted heaves of breath, and the damning painting over Spock’s heart was apparent in the Captain’s expression. 

He said nothing, and McCoy turned back to Spock. The Vulcan’s eyes roamed aimlessly on the ceiling, his blinking sluggish. McCoy placed his hand back onto Spock’s shoulder.

“Spock?” 

The Vulcan blinked slowly a few times, each time becoming heavier. His head began to loll to the side.

“Spock.” McCoy gave him a slight shake. He glanced at his heart rate - it wasn’t dropping like he feared. Nevertheless, Spock’s eyes slowly closed and he fell into unconsciousness. McCoy brought his hand away from the laying man’s shoulder. 

Kirk quietly entered the room and stepped up to the biobed, his sad eyes locked onto Spock. 

“There’s nothing I can do, Jim.” McCoy murmured apologetically. 

“I know, Bones.” 

Chapel looked between them. “I’m going to send a report to M’Benga. Maybe it’ll do some good.” She swiftly left the room. McCoy shook his head and let out a small, glum chuckle. They both knew contacting M’Benga wasn’t going to do a damn thing.

“What happened?” Kirk asked quietly. 

“Collapsed lung. He couldn’t breath.”

McCoy trailed to the other side of the biobed and opened the cabinet. Silently, he cleaned off the puncture wound on Spock’s side and placed a cotton pad over it, a soft green circle appearing shortly after. 

“He’s going to die, Jim.”

“Don’t.“ Kirk warned, tightly gripping the bedrail. “Don’t say that, Bones. How could you say that?” 

“Look at him, Jim.” 

Kirk swallowed and flicked his eyes back to Spock. He seemed so weak - almost dead. His eyes were sunken, deep bags hanging under. The pale skin he had earlier seemed so healthy compared to how it looked now. A few raised, blue lines peeked above his collarbone and started up his neck. _He’s going to die, Jim._

“I can’t accept that.” He whispered angrily. “I came down here to tell you and Spock that we’re almost there…Scotty pushed the engines. We’re thirty minutes away.” 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find, Jim.”

“I don’t know either, Bones.” he snapped. “Something. Anything.” He couldn’t stand to lose Spock. He was his greatest ally, his greatest vice on that ship. Spock had saved Kirk so many times, on so many different occasions. Couldn’t he do the same?

“I can’t let him die, Bones.” he said softly. “I can’t.” 

“Jim, that’s why I’m trying to be blunt with you. We can go to that moon, poke around and see what the fucking big deal is about that place. But Spock and I both know it’s not going to do any good. I don’t want you to think he has a chance when he doesn’t…I don’t want it to devastate you.” 

“It _will_ devastate me, Bones. That’s my point. I _can’t let him die._ ” A lump formed in his throat and his eyes became wet. He hung his head and looked away from the laying man - he couldn’t bear to see that oxygen mask. 

“ _He is going to die, Jim_.” McCoy emphasized slowly, his eyes boring into Kirk’s. He had no doubt about his statement, especially after what just happened. Kirk slammed his hands onto the bedrails.

“Aren’t you the fucking doctor, McCoy? What the hell is the matter with you?” Kirk’s face turned red. He felt rage build inside him, rage from what he saw in Spock and rage from the helplessness

“Why am I the only one in this room who wants to save him? I know you two have had your differences in the past, but dammit, I _need him_. How dare you give up on him like that?! You’re just going to accept his demise and let it happen? Who are you?” 

McCoy shook his head and stepped back from the biobed. His heart raced into his throat, and he felt a wetness fill his own eyes. He felt anger at Jim for accusing him of letting Spock die out of spite. He tried to tell himself that Kirk was lashing out due to his own sorrow. He was naive in these situations, these situations of death. McCoy had to teach himself how to accept death. To accept that, sometimes, there was nothing he could do but let it happen. Perhaps that’s why he was the doctor. 

“I don’t want him to die, Jim.” he said as he faced him. “Believe me. I do not want him to die.” The shakiness in his voice had returned. Kirk held his gaze and rubbed his face. 

“I know, Bones. I know that.” 

He dropped into a nearby chair and held his face in his hands. McCoy swallowed and stared at the captain. He took the chair opposite him, and together they sat in silence, the only thing heard being the barely audible filtered breathing of Spock.


	17. Prospects of Doubt

“I think he’s waking up, Bones.”

Spock heard a familiar voice, but he couldn’t make out where it came from. He endeavored to open his eyes, but everything felt so heavy. Deep blackness covered his senses and rested on his muscles. His body felt like it’d been constructed by molasses. 

He made another attempt to open his eyes, and he caught a few shapes of color before falling back to the blackness. He could have sworn he heard a voice, but the enticing pull of unconsciousness convinced him of it’s insignificance. A stubborn haze encapsulated his mind.

“Why is he doing that? Why can’t he wake up?”

“Just give him a second, Jim.”

“Spock, wake up!”

“Jim! Give him a sec!”

He felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. Where was that voice coming from? He was unsure why, but he knew he needed to heed to it. He slowly, sluggishly opened his eyes and met someone’s intense gaze. The humming of the hazy spell rolled over his thoughts. He felt his eyes begin to close again.

“Spock.” 

It was the other man’s voice…a doctor? Someone shook his shoulder gently. 

“Why the hell can’t he keep his eyes open?”

“I don’t know, Jim, dammit, I haven’t had a damn clue about any of this horse crap since that chucklefucking scaly piece of alien shit welcomed himself to the bridge, so cut me some damn slack, would ya?” 

Something prodded in Spock’s brain…that string of vocabulary couldn’t belong to anyone else. Doctor McCoy. He mentioned an alien…

His mind turned white as he was thrust back into a vivid memory of claws made of wires - an intense, blinding, suffocating wave of pain spliced past his bones and ripped into his jaw and brain. 

McCoy heard a soft, jolting intake of breath come from the Vulcan below him. He and Kirk immediately snapped their heads to the man in question. Silently, Spock opened his eyes. McCoy glanced at his heart rate - irregular and fast. 

“Spock?” Kirk stepped forward. “Can you hear me?”

Spock’s vision sharpened and the two figures came into view. He felt an annoying pressure against his face. He reached up and prodded his fingers against the oxygen mask.

Kirk knew Spock, and he somehow knew what he was about to do.

“No, no, keep that on-“ He reached his hand out to intercept Spock, but McCoy put his hand on Kirk’s arm.

“No it’s alright, let him. I need to see if he can breath on his own or not.” Kirk gave him an uneasy look, then nodded his head. 

Not entirely following the words coming from the men’s mouths, Spock tightened his hand on the mask and removed it. He thought he felt someone take it from his hand.

He took in a small, quaky breath through his nose. His lungs burned, but the air continued to flow. Why was he in sickbay again? 

McCoy released a sigh of relief. At least he still had oxygen. 

“Can you hear what I’m saying, Spock?” McCoy repeated Kirk’s question. Spock took another unsure breath of air and found the doctor standing above him. He slowly nodded his head. The doctor visibly relaxed.

“Okay. Can you see?”

He nodded his head. McCoy looked over to the charts, knowing that yes, Spock was in pain. He didn’t really see the point in asking. 

“Okay.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Kirk. 

With every passing second, the haze filtered out from Spock’s mind. He suddenly remembered being on the floor, not being able to breath. What had happened? There was only one other person in that room. He flicked his eyes to McCoy’s, who cocked his head at the sudden clearness in the Vulcan’s gaze. 

“Are you alright?”

As the fog left his senses, the pulsing pain of his abrasion came to him. It trickled into his left fingertips and snaked into his collarbone, bleeding down his torso. He was aware of it’s growth.

Prior to his most recent episode, Spock remembered that they had been only a few hours from their destination. He blinked and tried to sit up, but found a hand harboring him down.

“You predictable fruitcake, I fucking knew you would do that.” McCoy firmly pushed back against him. “Say something, you’re making me nervous.” His growling intonation contradicted his statement. 

“When will-“ tried Spock, but the words came out in a violent cough. The depletion of oxygen and the gasping for air had scraped his throat beyond efficient inhalation. His heart jumped as a sense of deja vu pierced his body - he couldn’t relive that sensation, the sensation of death by suffocation. He lifted himself as he continued to cough, attempting to find something, anything, but the doctor was already ahead of him. He swiftly removed a hypo from his pocket and injected it into Spock’s neck, who in turn felt his lungs expand and his coughing cease. Spock took a long inhale and leaned back so he was sitting against the headboard. 

Kirk’s tense muscles relaxed. “ _If he wakes up, he’s going to cough to the point where he can’t breath, alright?_ ” McCoy had said to him twenty minutes ago. “ _I already have a hypo ready, but I can’t give it to him until he needs it. Just stay put, don’t lose your marbles, I’ll have it under control_.” Even with a heads up, Kirk found he had been holding his breath.

“When will we arrive to the moon?” Spock finally asked, his voice nearly unrecognizable. McCoy and Kirk exchanged glances once more. 

“We’re already here.” said Kirk. Spock’s eyes found his, and Kirk almost lost his breath again at the direct sight of him. 

“When will we beam down?” It was a question both Kirk and McCoy expected.

“You’re not going anywhere, sunshine.” McCoy said as he took out his scanner and skimmed Spock’s temple. 

Spock stared at McCoy. He was going to refute it, but decided appeasing to his Captain would be a more effective course of action.

“Captain?” He asked expectantly, thinking his friend would be on his side. Jim shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Spock. You’re too weak. It would be…irresponsible of us to take you.” 

Spock logically understood, however he could not accept it. His mind felt heavy and every fiber of his being ached, yet the yearning to accompany his shipmates held irreparably strong. 

“Jim…the sole reason for our ship being here is because of me. After the discovery of the falsely dangerous lies the alien told us, we should have warped out of the sector and continued on our original course, but you insisted we follow through to this cluster because of _me._ ” 

Kirk held Spock’s gaze, silently conveying his own emotions. His first officer had never, ever looked so ghastly, ill, and defeated. It was shocking and entirely unwelcome. 

Kirk, of course, did not wish to let Spock out of his sight. He even considered taking Spock, but McCoy’s description of what happened half an hour ago convinced him otherwise. Straining the Vulcan could be his execution. 

“The safety of the ship and of yourself is compromised due to my condition,” continued Spock. “It would be unfair to risk yourself on my behalf, especially if I do not accompany you. Furthermore, as you can see, I am not far from death as is. What further harm could come of me by my beaming down with you?”

Kirk subtly shook his head, keeping eyes with the Vulcan. 

“Listen, Spock, you’re not coming.” McCoy said for him. “And I know you understand why.”

Spock swallowed and looked down to his bedsheets. He knew he wouldn’t win that argument, but he had to try. He looked back up when Kirk’s communicator chirped.

“Transporter room to Kirk.” Came Scotty’s voice. Kirk glanced to Spock, his heart skipping a beat. He was about to beam down in hopes of finding something to help his friend, but there was an irrefutable part of him that feared his return would find Spock to be dead already.

“Kirk here.”

“Sir, we’re ready for ya and Doctor McCoy.” 

“We’re on our way.”

He flipped the communicator shut, preparing himself to leave the Vulcan. He’d be with Chapel, whom Kirk trusted irrevocably, but she could only do so much to prevent the inevitable. 

“At least let me accompany you to the transporter room.” 

Kirk raised his eyebrows at Spock’s sudden request. He opened his mouth to say something, but the doctor beat him to it.

“You can come to the transporter room when tribbles talk. Chapel! Get in here!” 

“Doctor,” argued Spock. “The transporter room is on the same deck as sickbay. Let me come with you, and Nurse Chapel can ensure my safe return to this exact biobed. There is no logical reason to confine me here.”

“Yeah, except the fact that, ya know, you’re fucking _dying_.” 

“Bones.” Kirk said softly. “Let him come.”

McCoy turned his head to stare at his captain, his eyes wide and his mouth partially open. 

“What?”

“He has a point.” Kirk answered simply. McCoy sighed loudly and rubbed his forehead. Chapel scurried into the room.

“Dammit. Damn you both. I hate you guys. Why did I leave the planet? Chapel, me and Kirk are about to beam down, but this green bean wants to see us off. Because, obviously, a dead moon is the equivalent of being shipped off to nuclear war. So, you get the honor of walking his Vulcan ass back to this biobed. And Spock, if I hear that you didn’t get right back into this bed, I personally will kill you with the dullest butter knife I can find.” He waved his hands around angrily. Chapel bit her lip to stop a smile. She nodded her understanding. McCoy took another dramatic inhale.

“Alright, well let’s see if you can even walk.” He said bitterly. 

McCoy helped Spock stand on his feet. He trembled subtly, but enough for McCoy to notice. He internally cursed himself for agreeing to this mess. 

To the doctor’s surprise, however, Spock stood tall. Kirk took a step forward and gently held Spock’s good arm, gesturing forward. They shared silent words. McCoy watched carefully as they began forward, Spock needing the support of his captain, but requiring none more. He and his nurse looked at each other before following behind, descending into the corridor.

“You will beam back the moment any danger is detected, Captain.” said Spock as they walked. He phrased it as a fact, but there was a hint of question within. Kirk nodded in affirmation. 

“Of course, Mr. Spock.” 

“And please, Captain, keep in mind that the probability of you finding anything helpful is astronomical and it is entirely acceptable to return with nothing.” 

“I know, Spock.”

“And-“

“Spock.” Kirk looked over to the Vulcan walking beside him. “Stop worrying. I have no intention of putting myself or Doctor McCoy in danger. But I’ve got to check. I have to.”

“Jim,” Kirk hated how terrible his friend’s voice sounded. “No matter how this ends for me, what is important is the safety of our ship. I wish you to know that I am completely at peace with the knowledge that the Enterprise is safe.”

Kirk exhaled through his nose. He knew the underlying text in Spock’s words. ‘ _I’m at peace with my death. You should be too.’_

_“_ Well let’s just see what we can find down there, alright?” Spock didn’t reply. They continued to the transporter room in silence.

“Do you think you’ll find anything down there?” asked Chapel to McCoy as they walked behind the two officers.

“No.” He exhaled and squeezed her shoulder.

The doors swooshed open as the four of them entered the transporter room. Scotty’s breath hitched, but his face betrayed nothing. The presence of the nurse convinced him that Spock wasn’t there to foolishly beam down. 

“Gentlemen,” he acknowledged. “Shall we?” 

Chapel stayed in the doorway as Kirk led Spock to the control panel. He leaned against the machinery, his insides shaking, as McCoy and Kirk took their places on the pad.

“If you get me killed, I will haunt this ship, and you, especially.” McCoy whispered to Kirk next to him. A ghost of a smile crossed the captain’s face. He locked eyes with Spock across from him, praying to whomever was listening that his friend would be alive when he returned. If he couldn’t save Spock, he had to at least be with him until the end. He’d never forgive himself if he let him die alone.

Spock breathed heavily though his nose, his chest feeling constricted and heavy. His left shoulder continued to push it’s agony though his body, an uncomfortable and damning pressure closing in on his heart. He needed to be alive long enough to see their return.

Scotty glanced to the Vulcan on the other side of the control panel. It was an unsettling sight.

“Are ye ready, Jim?” He looked away and over to the Captain. Kirk nodded his head, not diverting his gaze. 

“Energize.” he confirmed. Scotty pulled up on the levers and entered his chosen coordinates, before pressing the final command and looking up to watch the two men disappear. He waited for the soft light to tube over the pads and dissipate the men from the ship.

It did not come. 

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, looking down to his control panel in wonder. _What in the devil…?_

Spock suddenly felt something blossom in the center of his chest; it was soft and almost jolting, yet not painful. It was absolutely foreign and his lungs began to feel cold. 

“Jim…” He gripped the control panel for support as the strange feeling continued to spread through his skin. 

Dread filled Kirk’s blood at the mention of his name and the sight of it’s owner. He saw it happening the moment Spock registered it. He took a hesitant and shocked step forward.

“SPOCK!” 

Scotty jerked his head up at the Captain’s shout. He pivoted to look at the Vulcan, who was beginning to gain opacity. Spock fell to his knees, a sudden weakness taking over him. Scotty froze when he realized the Vulcan was vanishing.

Kirk leapt off the pad the second Spock fell, his mind not wanting to believe what he was seeing. He fell in front of Spock and grabbed his shoulders, needing the contact with him to anchor the Vulcan to the ship. To Kirk’s horror, it did absolutely nothing. The breath in Kirk’s lungs left him as Spock’s opaque eyes met his own. A chill ran down Kirk’s spine. Those eyes had a look of despondency and knowing. 

“SPOCK! NO!” 

Within seconds, the hands that gripped Spock’s shoulders were suddenly empty. Kirk’s mouth was open in shock and horror, his hands hovering where his friend was only milliseconds before.

He was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates have become slightly slower as I have a new internship and work 7 days a week...have no fear, as I have every intention on finishing this piece!   
> Another thank you to those who enjoy my story and who have stuck with me this entire time. I love writing, but having others who take something away from my writing makes it even more worth while.   
> LLP


	18. Eluded

He was frozen in place, the look in his first officer’s eyes haunting his mind. Kirk stood and turned to face McCoy, who hadn’t moved from his place on the transporter pad. Shock was written all over his face. 

Kirk looked around the room, to McCoy, Scott, and Chapel in the doorway. No one said a word. No one knew what to say…or what to do. 

Except the captain.

His face morphed from one of confusion and shock, to one of a dangerous fury. He had been touching him…his hands were on Spock’s shoulders. Why hadn’t he gone with him? Why hadn’t that transporter beam, whomever’s it was, taken Kirk too? He felt his heart pound against his chest in rage. That feeling of touching the fabric of Spock’s sickbay shirt as he disappeared, inches away from Kirk…then suddenly not touching it anymore.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“I dunno, sir…that beam-“

“The moon, Mr. Scott, are there any lifeforms? Is there a ship around here? Any abnormalities in spacetime? Check the damn scanners, God dammit, I need to find him.” He spoke with rushed fervent, every second away from Spock counting against him.

“Sir…there’s nothing. It’s as dead as when we came over here. There’s nothing.” His voice shook slightly. This entire time, they had so desperately wanted to save Spock. And now he was gone, vanished. 

“I’m not going to accept that.”

“Jim…” McCoy stepped off the transporter pad. He shook his head, trying to find the words.

“If you’re going to suggest that he’s a lost cause, McCoy-“ 

“No, Jim,” he furrowed his brow with a pained look. “That’s not at all what I think. Until I personally declare him dead, he’s as alive to me as he is to you. I was - well, I think - I was going to say we need to try and find him.” 

Kirk chewed his lower lip and nodded his head. “Yeah, we do. I’m sorry, Bones. Are there any other planets or surfaces within beaming distance, Scotty?”

“No, Captain. The planet it’s orbiting is too far.”

“Good. That just leaves one.” 

McCoy stared at him quizzically as the captain took his place on the pad. Kirk looked down at him with an expectant look.

“Are you coming?” 

McCoy blinked and nodded his head, stepping up and taking his place on the pad.

“Where do ye want me to put you, Jim?” Scotty asked incredulously. “That moon is two times bigger than our Earth one, you cannae walk around in hopes of finding him!”

“Well,” replied Kirk softly. “I’m not going to stay here, Scotty.” Scotty swallowed, and nodded his head. “If anything goes wrong…well, if we don’t contact you, or if we’re not back in the exact spot we beamed down to in 24 hours, you leave. It’ll be a nightmare of paperwork you’ll have to do with Starfleet, but, nothing you can’t deal with, right?”

“Alright, sir.” he said softly.

“You’ve got the conn, Scotty. Energize.” 

Just as Kirk predicted, the transporter was in working order as if the malfunction involving Spock didn’t happen. The smell of foul play pooled in Kirk’s mind. 

Scotty watched the two men filter out from the pad and disappear all together. He exchanged glances with Christine, who took a few steps forward into the room. Scotty looked down to his scanner, procedure being to check the safe relocation of the men. He expected to see two small blue dots, detailing that two humans were on the surface of an otherwise dead moon. He was still rather shocked by the moon itself, being only one of three Class M moons known by Starfleet. He wanted to thank the lucky stars for a moon which humans can breath on, but his gratitude imploded when he looked to the scanner. 

There were no two blue dots. There was nothing, just as there was nothing when the men beamed down. His eyes widened and his hands shot to his controls, desperately searching for any sign of their life. Catching on to his frantic expression, Christine’s heart stopped.

“What is it?” she dared.

“They’re gone! The scanner shows nothing’s on the moon’s surface, that they’re not there!”

Fear filled her blood; Spock was gone, probably dead. She had already accepted that he wouldn’t live. But her good friend, her mentor, Doctor McCoy…in many ways, she cared for him more than she did for Spock. She couldn’t go to work every day without him bumbling around, growling under his breath. And the captain…

“What does that mean?” 

“They’re not on that moon, Chapel! Aw, crivens, why in the hell did I let him use this thing without me checkin’ it? Shite, Chapel,” he clicked around his control board, his hands moving quickly and expertly.

“Scott to landing party, come in, landing party.” 

Silence.

“Jim! Are ye there?!” 

Not even static.

Scott’s hands slowly dropped from the control panel. His shoulder’s sunk and he looked to the empty transporter pad.

“Oh, my God.” 

— — —

_“Holy shit.”_

McCoy’s jaw was dropped open, his eyes wide as he tried to take in what surrounded them. The dry dirt crunched under his feet as he turned 360 degrees, his eyes feeling disconnected from his brain. 

“Jim, I thought this was a dead moon.” His words came out in a hollow echo. 

“It…was.” 

Things which resembled trees covered the landscape before them, condensing in a type of forest which neither of the men expected. Mountains higher than Earth’s scattered the horizon, and craters bigger than buildings secreted into the ground. Rather than a canopy of leaves, a rough layer of strangely shaped plants topped the forest. It could have passed for a sister of Earth, but the palette of the moon was almost entirely monochrome. The dirt was a soft gray, and the trees were charcoal with the planted top being a sort of creme color, like what Kirk used to sweeten his coffee. Massive white rocks rested at the foot of the mountains. The only color in sight was the gold and blue of the men’s shirts. 

“What in the devil is this place?” 

“I dunno, Bones. Kirk to transporter room. Scott, come in.”

He was answered with silence. He shared an easy look with his friend before trying again. 

“Scotty, come in.”

Again, he was met with nothing. He flipped it shut and looked to McCoy, who’s eyes looked like they were about to bug out.

“Is this a joke?”

“This is…well, this isn’t bad.” Kirk bobbed his head to himself and scratched the bottom of his lip. “This is actually almost good.”

“Good?! Are you out of your damn mind?!” 

“Bones, this means that life on this moon is invisible to our scanners…maybe that means that even though we couldn’t see Spock, he’s still here.”

“Jim…even if we did find Spock, somehow, in this filthy mess, how would be get back on the ship? We have no contact!” 

“We don’t know that yet, they may have to fix communications, but somehow, Scotty will get it fixed. Just give them time. Right now, we need to get moving.”

“Christ, Jim. Where the hell should we go?”

Kirk looked around, scrutinizing their surroundings. Mountains surrounded them, off in the distance. They were in the middle of some valley…and the only sign of life was that forest planted in the middle of it.

“We go there.” He pointed with his index finger to the forest. McCoy took in a long breath and sighed. He cracked his knuckles.

“Well, we ain’t gettin’ any younger.” 

Dust kicked up behind them as they walked across the dirt. As they neared the forest, the ground beneath them softened with the presence of grey, chalky grass. It thickened until they reached the wall of massive charcoal trunks and silvery plants. 

“I don’t know what we’re going to find in there, Bones. At this point, your joining me is no longer under order. I won’t make you come with me.”

“Save it for the jury, Jim. I’m coming with you.”

Kirk nodded, a softness in his smile. “Good. Set your phaser to stun.”

“To stun?”

“To stun, McCoy. We may or may not be venturing into an enemy’s territory, but we’re still Starfleet. We still have a prime directive. And there may not be anything dangerous out there, we wouldn’t want to make the mistake of killing a peaceful creature, would we?”

McCoy scoffed and waved his hand. “Alright, fine. To stun.”

They continued forward, their hands hovering a little nearer their weapons than usual. Kirk tried to do the math of how much daylight they had left and what their options would be when the night eventually came. They were questions he’d normally ask Spock about.

They walked for hours, the light of a supernova lightyears away being the source that filtered through the canopy. Kirk didn’t know how long a day was on this rock…how long does it take for this moon to orbit around it’s planet? _Dammit, I bet Spock knows all these damn answers._

“What a ridiculous few days this has been.” McCoy quipped, his words dripping with disdain. Kirk chuckled beside him.

“That’s an understatement.”

“So far, though, I haven’t seen any sign of intelligent life. Or even primal life…just, plants.” 

“Which is bizarre. Is it just me, or is this world entirely colorless?”

“Nope, it’s not you. It’s definitely just a grey scale around here.” A soft, chilly breeze weaved through the forest. “You know, Spock may not even be on this moon at all, Jim.” 

Kirk sighed. “I know, Bones, I know the odds are against us. But he _was_ beamed somewhere. And if he were beamed out into open space, we would have picked up his body on our scanners. The physics of space are the same everywhere. But this particular moon…whatever components it’s made of, our scanners simply can’t read it correctly. That’s not physics, that’s just scientific stagnation. We read the moon as dead. Obviously, it’s not dead. We read Spock as not being on the moon, well, maybe he’s on the moon nevertheless.” 

“It could make sense, alright? He might be. Which is why I agreed to hike through this unsettling slob excuse of a forest. But…” He let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I mean, we’re goin’ blind here, Jim! We don’t have a plan! We’re just…waltzin’ around, hoping to find something.”

Kirk stopped walking and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what else to do, Bones. Really, I don’t.” He exhaled and shook his head at the ground. “He disappeared…right in front of me.” 

McCoy’s face softened. He let out a sigh and put his hands on his hips, observing the trees that surrounded them.

“I was touching him…I felt him as he vanished. I can’t just leave him, Bones. I’d never be the same. I have to do something…I have to try. And this,” he gestured to the forest. “is all I know to do.”

McCoy pursed his lips and bounced once on his feet. “I wonder what makes these trees look like that. Never seen anything like it.” He scratched his head. “I mean, the trunks are massive. Really big. And they’re not just black, but like, almost a matte black. Ya know?”

Kirk had his eyebrows raised, staring at the doctor in tired amusement. “Find something that interests you?” he asked.

“I bet that’s not even bark.” McCoy walked over to a nearby tree. He put his hand on it, swiping his thumb across the surface, feeling the texture. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Well when am I ever wrong? Just as I thought, it’s not bark, its…well hell if I know, but it’s smooth, Jim! Like a table.”

“A table, doctor?” Kirk clarified dryly. 

“Yeah, like a wooden table. Wooden tables don’t feel like the tree they once were, now do they?”

“McCoy, where the hell are you going with this?”

“I’m just settling in with my surroundings, Jim. Besides, I’m curious. This is a strange, strange moon you’ve marooned me to. And Spock would have a fit if we didn’t at least take a few notes.”

Kirk exhaled and hung his head. “You’re such a drama queen, Bones.”

“Well what makes you say that?”

“Just tell me you want to find Spock too, and we can skip the off-putting tree stroking.”

McCoy laughed and dropped his hand from the tree. “Alright, whatever you say, pumpkin.” He swung his foot around to walk back to the captain, but he froze when he glanced down at the base of the tree.

Kirk, noticing McCoy’s sudden change in posture, stepped forward. 

“What?”

“Come here, Jim.”

“Agh,” Kirk walked up to the tree, “for the love of God, just tell me what-“ He lost the words in his throat as he gazed down at the floor of the forest. 

Poking out from the ashy dirt, out from under the roots, were several sparkling crystals. They were clumped together, pointing different directions, and emitting jolting blue sparkles. Kirk lost his breath, his mouth open in an impossible awe. _Are those…?_

“Did the computer say where those crystals were supposed to be found?” asked McCoy, echoing Kirk’s thoughts.

“No…they didn’t. That wasn’t something the alien forced into our data banks. I assumed it was similar to Earth, in mountains and rock, but…I guess not.” He dropped to one knee and slid his fingers under the dirt, feeling the grains between his fingertips. He brushed off a layer from the crystals.

“Do you think these are the crystals the alien was talking about?” Kirk asked, looking up at his friend. McCoy cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“Sure seems like it, Jim. Otherwise that alien would’ve clarified. Unless it’s an alien species of airheads, but, I somehow doubt that.” They stared at the shining rocks, lost in their discovery. 

“So…what do we do, then?” asked McCoy.

“We dig.”

— — — 

400 meters away, Spock’s ears pricked at the sound of a distant voice. He turned around, scanning the trees around him for it’s owner. A fallen tree-plant crunched under his foot. He had transported to the surface of the moon hours ago, but he had lost count of how many. When he appeared, he had done so in the middle of a very strange forest. The walking had been exhausting, but he felt he didn’t have a choice. He hoped to find a clearing, a clear look at the sky. Perhaps the ship was still there. If it wasn’t…

Well, it didn’t truly matter anyway. Death was inevitable, ship or no ship. He felt a twinge of regret for the ship’s absence in his last moments, but he quickly blocked the emotion the moment he registered it. 

He knew he hadn’t gotten very far. His lungs burned and his shoulder spasmed with pain every few minutes. The muscles in his legs were numb and his vision was beginning to blur in the corners. His hearing was sharp, however, and a layer of clarity hit him with the presence of the noise. A sharp pain blossomed in his collarbone and melted into his bones. He closed his eyes and leaned against the tree next to him, his breathing slow and heavy. The pain leaked near his heart, and he found himself on the balls of his feet, his entire weight against the black trunk. Nausea teased his insides. 

_Pain is of the mind…_ he tried to remind himself. _Block the pain like you do emotion._ He sucked in air through his teeth as a sharp rush of pain pierced his shoulder. _Be realistic, Spock, the mind can’t control this._ He thought bitterly as the agony washed out until it was back to throbbing pain it was before. He took in a slow, long breath. Shaking, he lifted himself back to a standing position. 

He barely turned his head when he heard the voice for the second time. It was far and unintelligible, but it was definitely there. This time, he knew which direction it came from. Part of him wanted it to be the captain, and part of him didn’t. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to ignore it.

Taking in another deep breath, he swallowed and prepared himself to move again. He remembered the horrified eyes of Captain Kirk as the transporter room and Kirk himself disappeared from Spock. 

He sighed again, and with a push off the tree, Spock began forward. 


	19. Left for the Mud

“So what are you going to do with those once we find Spock?” asked McCoy, leaning against the tree with his arms crossed. He looked down to a kneeling Kirk. “Rub it on his forehead? Recite a mystical chant?”

“You are my least favorite person right now, McCoy.” Kirk grumbled, his hands scraping dirt away from shining crystals. 

"Well that’s dandy, Jim, but I still don’t know what these things are going to do for us.”

Kirk stopped digging and sat back on his heels. He imagined he’d be sweating from the digging, but the atmosphere of the planet held no humidity and the breeze was chilly. “Bones. These crystals are the common denominator to this entire ordeal, alright? These damned things are what that alien wanted, or don’t you remember?”

“I remember, Jim.”

"Good. So you remember how important they are. Spock is in the position he’s in now, and Spock went through hell the last few days,  _because of these crystals._  So I’m not very well gonna leave them here, am I? And even if we don’t find Spock, which, we will, we still need these things. So are you gonna stand there like an oyster, or are you going to help me?”

“Ya know, oyster’s are my favorite animal.” teased McCoy with a wry smile. Kirk pursed his lips and squinted his eyes.

“Oyster’s aren’t really animals, Bones.”

“The hell you talkin’ about? Course they’re animals.”

“They’re bivalve crustaceans.”

“Which are animals.”

Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder ripped into the sky above them. Their bickering stopped and their heads turned to the sky. With his eyes on the dark clouds, McCoy vocalized what they were both thinking.

“Well that’s bad.”

Kirk swallowed and nodded. He looked back to the crystals in the dirt, considered for a moment, then continued digging. A few drops of rain escaped the canopy and splashed onto the shiny rocks. They dazzled.

“I wonder what the ship is seeing.” McCoy mumbled to himself as he continued to scan the sky.

 — — —

“The devil you mean, Sulu?!” Scotty demanded, his eyes wide.

“It’s a supercell, Scott. I can’t predict what it’s capable of, it might have tornadoes, it might just be rain, I don’t know!”

“Well what are the sensor’s tellin ya?” The engineer moved to Sulu’s side, looking at the panel over his shoulder.

“They’re telling me it’s massive and it’s moving quick. It developed in the 3rd quadrant of the moon,” he pointed to the data map. “and barreled over to where it is now. But I don’t understand what I’m seeing, sir. Our scans are saying those clouds have moisture in them…as in rain!”

“But the moon is dead, Sulu, there’s no water.” admonished Scotty.

“Well that’s what I’m not understanding, sir. None of these readings line up. I’m essentially blind right now!”

“Well what did meteorology say?”

“They said what we are looking at is impossible.”

Scotty exhaled through his nose and looked around the bridge. Three of the most important officers of the Enterprise were missing, and in 15 hours, he was supposed to leave them entirely behind. For dead.

“There’s somthin’ amiss with this planet, Sulu.” He tapped his foot against the floor and his thumb against the panel. “I beamed them down there me-self.” he continued. “I didn’t make no mistake, no sir. I know I beamed them down there.”

“There are no readings of lifeforms, sir.” Sulu reminded softly.

“No, dammit, I know that. But see, you said yourself, it’s not making any sense! No water? Then where in the devil is that rain comin’ from? No lifeforms? Then where in the devil did our captain and doctor go off to? They’ve got to be down there, I know it!”

“We can’t leave them, Mister Scott.” said Uhura from across the bridge. She stood from her chair. “The captain wouldn’t leave any of us.”

“We’re not leavin’ ‘em, lass, you needn’t worry about that.”

“Captain Kirk ordered us to leave if he didn’t return.” Chekov turned his head towards Scott. He tried to keep the fear from his voice. “We have 15 hours and 14 minutes left.”

“Well we’ll get to that obstacle when it arrives.” dismissed Scott. Chekov sighed and looked down at his controls. Sulu glanced over at his counterpart, reading the look on his friend’s face. He was young, and very impressionable in some ways. Sulu knew how greatly Chekov admired the Captain as well as Spock, and how he cared for the wellbeing of all things living. Sometimes Sulu thought his heart was too big for the ship.

“Try communications again, Uhura.” Scott asked, his voice quiet. She nodded and sat back in her chair.

“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Captain, can you read me?”

Scotty continued tapping his thumb against Sulu’s control panel as he waited in the silence. No reply came. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, his tapping becoming more vehement. Uhura looked over to Scotty, who nodded. Try again.

“Captain Kirk, sir, this is the Enterprise. Please, can you read me? Can you give me anything? A voice, a signal, anything?”

Tap tap tap tap tap. Sulu glanced down at Scotty’s dancing thumb, then up to his face. Scotty’s eyes were soft, his brow furrowed in concern and stress. Sulu pressed his lips together as he looked back to the meteorology map. His heart felt heavy as he watched the interactive radar.

It was growing.

 — — —

“It’s getting cold.” noted McCoy. “No good for our Vulcan friend.” He looked around to the surrounding trees. The land was flat, but it was thickly decorated with massive trunks and silver plants. Perhaps delving into the forest was a mistake…

“I’m almost done, and we’ll keep moving.” came Kirk’s reply. His worry for Spock kept his chilled hands working quickly. 

McCoy had his back to Kirk, his eyes continuing to scan the forest. Anxiety crept into his mind as thunder rolled overhead. A loud pattering gave warning to the increasing rain, and the good doctor soon found his head and shoulders soaked with the water. His shirt darkened as it leaked down into his pants and into his boots. He sighed. The rain had chased several shades of light away; he blinked a few times to adjust. This was no good.

“Are you there yet?” He turned back to look at Kirk, whose right hand was wrist-deep under the base of the tree. The captain had his free hand braced against the trunk.

“Yup.” His voice strained as he reached further into the ground. He could feel the connection between the crystals and the tree…maybe if he twisted against the crystals, they’d break free. Mud began to sludge into his freshly dug hole. He adjusted his grip, readied himself, and pulled against the crystals. 

Once invisible roots barreled out from under the dirt and shot up Kirk’s arm. He cried out in surprise as they wrapped around his forearm and slithered up his bicep. Instinctively, Kirk whipped his free hand away from the trunk and snatched at the roots, trying as he could to rip them away. As if in protest, the roots half as thick as rope slid into Kirk’s skin like a knife through butter. 

He screamed in pain as McCoy scrambled to his side, trying desperately to halt the attack. He frantically grabbed his phaser and pointed it to the roots, but Kirk’s arm was pulled into the ground where McCoy trained his weapon. Kirk tried pushing away from the tree, but the grip on his arm was too strong. His body jerked forward as he was yanked further into the dirt. Agony rocked his mind, the roots sliding further under his skin. 

McCoy abandoned his phaser, grabbed under Kirk’s arms, and pulled. The captain’s captive arm half disappeared beneath the tree as the attacker pulled back.

The harder he fought, the thinner his breath became. The mud surrounding his shoulder began to gain a swirl of red.

“Spock…!”

Kirk jerked his head up at the breathless mention of Spock’s name. Had he imagined McCoy saying that? 

As if time had slowed, Kirk looked past the black trunk, through the thick sheet of rain, and locked eyes with no other than Spock. The Vulcan was running towards them. He only saw him for a moment; a pale figure with a look of the dead. Kirk’s heart stopped and the anguish was forgotten.  _Spock._

Against his fears of losing him again, Kirk had no choice but to rip his eyes away from the Vulcan as he felt the invading roots pull against him. As suddenly as he forgot the pain, he was reminded of it. Whiteness flashed in his mind as blood leaked into the mud. 

Spock fell to his knees beside the tree, swiftly putting both hands to the trunk with closed eyes. Kirk heard McCoy yelling at him, but he couldn’t decipher the words. Spock’s presence barely registered in his mind as colorful spots took his vision. He was pulled further under the tree until his arm was completely lost in the ground. The unrelenting strength of the roots felt as if they’d tear his entire arm off. He cried out with another tug of his flesh. 

“It’s a tree, Spock! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

As Spock had wandered through the forest, searching for the voices he had heard…he heard the captain scream. The kind of scream that made Spock forget any of his ailments and his own pain. The kind of scream that forced energy into his legs, his endorphins numb with each pounding step. He had forced open his mind, a mind that had been closed to prevent unconsciousness, to attempt to locate his friend. When a mind is in extreme distress, if the mind is in connection with the counterpart, a Vulcan can sense it.

But when he had done so, when Spock opened his mind to feel for Kirk’s…he felt something else.

He kept his eyes closed, his fingers barely touching the strange tree. A familiar warmth coated his mind as he accessed that very specific corner of his brain. Kirk’s shouts and cries slowly diminished to silence as Spock fell into his own mind. 

McCoy pulled against Kirk, panic rising in his throat. Nothing was stopping this tree from killing the captain. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to feel bliss at Spock’s unexpected presence. 

“ _COME ON!”_ He growled as he tugged against the tree. He was still positive Spock wasn’t going to make it - he’d be damned if he was going to lose Jim, too. The rain pounded against the back of his head.

With a heavy breath, McCoy summoned any strength he had left. He blew air out his mouth and adjusted his grip on a thrashing Kirk. 

That was James Kirk, alright - he’d fight until the fight was knocked out of him. 

_Alright….and…PULL!_ McCoy yanked back on Kirk. Something under the tree loosened and Kirk’s entire weight catapulted backwards into McCoy. Kirk felt the release of his arm and the retreat of the roots from his skin. Rain splashed onto his face as he fell back into the mud. He turned over on his side, his lungs gasping for air. The moment he realized the threat was gone, Kirk looked up at Spock. Hardly a moment after doing so, Spock's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body fell limp to the ground. Kirk scrambled to his knees, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. 

“What the hell just happened?!” McCoy shouted, his voice cracking. He looked between Kirk’s gushing arm and Spock’s prone body, suddenly wishing he had four arms and two brains. He swiftly crawled to the opposite side of the Vulcan.

“Are you okay, Jim?!” He glanced up at his friend as he turned Spock over. Kirk was holding his arm tightly, blood mixing with rain, but his eyes were trained on Spock. He looked up and nodded, his chest still heaving. 

“Yeah…what…what is he doing here?! What did he do?!” He shouted over the thunder.

McCoy shook his head as he took the Vulcan’s pulse.

"Jim...I think he just did a mind meld!”

 


	20. Amalgamated

"Bones, do something!" He ordered desperately, his hand clutching a bloody arm. Wasn't adrenaline supposed to numb pain? His shredded skin was a constant, pulsing reminder that that wasn't entirely gospel.

"Ssshh!" came McCoy's angry reply, his fingers held tight under Spock's jaw. He had felt a flutter, but it was fleeting and small. A crack of thunder lacerated the heavens. A vehemently frustrated sigh escaped the doctor as he was reduced to doing nothing besides scanning the two men with his portable tricorder, the readings causing his exasperations to increase.

He glanced nervously at the tree only a few feet away from them. What exactly had Spock done?

It was an empty question, as McCoy already had the answer. He had seen the Vulcan perform the action several times; not even the dark clouds and crashing rain could sway what he saw. It was, entirely, a mind meld.

And it had worked. Jim was alive — slightly mauled, but alive — because of Spock's meld.  _But what in blazes does that mean?!_ He shook his head to himself, knocking the thoughts out of his head. He had more pressing things to focus on.

"We need to find shelter, Jim."

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"What?"

"Your arm."

"Yeah?"

"How the hell am I supposed to drag a Vulcan all by myself?"

Jim was silent for a moment. "Shit."

McCoy stood and swiped his hand over his face. The mud beneath his boots squished as he turned, his eyes scanning the horizon of pouring rain. He growled in his throat in protest of the situation.

"Did you see anything before we found this tree?" he began to ask, but another violent rip of thunder drowned his question.

"What?!"

"Did you see anything! A…cave, or a hole, maybe?"

Jim was still kneeling, his tired eyes on Spock. He reached out a hand to touch his friend's shoulder, but returned it to it's clutching following another wave of pain. A deep sadness had formed on Kirk's face as he observed the Vulcan, rain pouring on a still, pale face.

"Jim?"

"Bones, there's nothing out here. There's no way we can find anything in this storm." He looked up at the doctor, a look of hopelessness and guilt in his eyes. "What are we going to do? Look at him, he's near dead already! We can't leave him out here in this, in this rain and the cold, he's—"

"Jim, Jim, stop! We're gonna figure it out, alright?" He kneeled down in front of Kirk, Spock laying to the left of him. He let out a frustrated huff and locked eyes with the captain. "I don't know, I don't. But I know that we are stranded, you're bleeding out, and Spock's —" he blew air out his nose and looked to the ground. "I don't know. But this tree is fucking dangerous, and frankly I don't want to be near it."

Kirk nodded absently. He hardly registered the fact that his bloodied hand had begun shaking. McCoy muttered something about Kirk staying put, and he stalked away through the trees. Kirk glanced up at McCoy's departing figure — he could almost see the steam coming out from his ears.

He exhaled slowly and looked down to Spock. Lightning flashed through the rustling canopy, a quick ray showcasing the spidery blue lines that had crept up the Vulcan's neck. Staring with contempt at the design, Kirk decided he didn't want to know what it looked under the muddy white shirt.

"What did you do, Spock?" he whispered to no one. He felt sick.

_"_ _Congratulations on your command, Captain Kirk. I am Spock. I have been assigned as your First Officer."_

_"_ _Welcome aboard, Mr. Spock. Chris has told me all about you."_

Another crack of thunder accompanied the wind. It howled through the leaves and through the trees.

_"_ _Admiral Pike was a commendable commanding officer. Serving with him for seven years was a valuable experience."_

_"_ _Well let's hope we can have something of the same."_

"I can't see jack shit out there." McCoy's voice shattered his focus. "Christ. What a holiday." Kirk looked up to the doctor walking past him and to a tree ten feet away. He furiously shoved the stem of a large, silver leaf into the alien bark. He practically stormed back over, a permanent scowl on his face, and, ironically, gently lifted Spock's shoulders.

"Come on. I don't trust this crochety stump." The doctor pulled Spock back towards his chosen tree, the fact it was disparate giving blind comfort. Kirk lifted himself on slightly shaky feet, foolishly hoping Spock would suddenly open his eyes and chastise McCoy for the prolonged physical contact.

McCoy adjusted the placement of the hanging leaf, the majority of the plant arched over Spock's head, catching the rain away. Biting the inside of his mouth, McCoy decided to do a quick perimeter check of the tree. Good. No crystals.

"Sit down here. These fell from the wind, I think. Best I can do, alright?" McCoy stuck another large leaf into the tree, then suddenly flinched as a crack of thunder shook the ground. He glared angrily up at the sky and shot up his middle finger. "Yeah, fuck you too, buddy!"

He growled as he carefully pushed Spock's shoulders closer to the tree, his entire upper body protected by the leaves. The doctor kneeled down and felt Spock's clammy skin, his fingers brushing across the blue webs. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"How much longer until we have to get back to the clearing?"

Kirk reached for his communicator and glanced at the timer. "We have 11 hours," he read wearily. McCoy scratched his palm and slid down the trunk. Part of the captain, the part that was bloodied, was covered by the leaves. Spock's head lay only inches from the sitting man. The doctor, on the other side of Kirk, felt the full force of the wind and the rain. He hardly cared. Decisively, his fingers fumbled with his belt before he yanked it off his pants and slid it up Kirk's arm.

"You're losing a lot of blood, Jim."

"Apt medical observation, Bones."

"Don't get smart with me, son."

"Ouch! Jesus, Bones, don't you think that's a little tight?"

"Do you wanna lose a fucking arm?"

"I want to keep my arm, thank you very much, and you're about to sever it with your bloodthirsty hands!"

"If I ever see one of those repulsingly vexed aliens again, then you're gonna see bloodthirsty."

Jim let out a small chuckle. "'Repulsingly' isn't a word." He looked down to the unconscious man beside him. McCoy sighed as he considered their options.

"How long did it take us to get here? From where we beamed?" asked the doctor.

"About twelve hours."

"Great. We're supposed to get back faster than we got here, but with an unconscious Vulcan on my back and a commanding officer without an arm. But only if we leave," he poked his finger irately into the mud. "Right now."

"We're not going to make it back, Bones."

"Oh, I know."

They shared no words as lightning strobed in the sky overhead. Kirk tried hopelessly to hail the ship. There was no surprise with the lack of a reply.

McCoy felt the exhaustion set into his eyes. A racing mind kept them wide open, but the deprivation of all things healthy seeped into his stamina. He had nothing; no hypos, no bandages…all he carried was the leftover antibiotics from A-shift and the medical scanner. Compared to the condition of his captain's arm, those antibiotics were compatible with nothing more than a paper cut.

Slowly, as the dark hours ticked by, the rain began to lift. The southern man leaned back, his head clunking against the trunk. He had poked around Kirk's arm periodically, checking for dirt or any severe discoloration. It was the best, and only, thing he could do in the conditions given. Spock's temperature was disturbingly high, his skin cold and deathly. Deep, gray circles had nested permanently under his eyes. McCoy didn't remember his face being so thin and hollow.

"It stopped." Kirk noted quietly of the rain, his voice gravelly and soft. He watched a few stubborn drops of water fall from the damp tree limbs. McCoy turned his head towards the captain.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"It hurts like a bitch."

McCoy almost chuckled. "Yeah. I'll bet it does. At least the bleeding slowed. If we —"

"…Bones!"

"What?"

"He's moving!"

McCoy immediately bounced off the tree and crawled over to Spock, small puddles of water splashing in his wake. The Vulcan's head barely shifted to the side.

"Spock." McCoy put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small shake. The Vulcan's eyelids pressed together, but didn't open. His head moved again.

"Spock." He shook him again. "Come on." He glanced up at the silver leaves and ripped them off, their once sheltering presence blocking the doctor's view.

Slowly, Spock's eyes opened to a hazy world. He blinked a few times and settled on the doctor leaning over him.

"Now, stay put, Spock," McCoy said firmly. "Kirk's fine. Little bloodied," he looked up to Kirk. "But he's fine. We're….well, we just need to stay put for now."

"The ship?" His question barely came out in a whisper. He had become sentient enough to feel perturbed at the weakness in his own voice.

"She's still up there, but she'll be leaving in few hours. We're stranded."

Spock moved his head in discomfort, a soft groan hardly audible to the doctor's keen ears.

"You're in pain." he stated, a tone of disdain laced in the words. His chest tightened as he realized he would have preferred Spock stay unconscious; at least that way he could've stayed blissfully pain-free.

"Captain." Spock blinked a few more times, his sight finally focusing. He felt Kirk's presence, but he could not see him.

"Yeah." Came the soft answer.

Spock ticked his head, realizing his friend was directly behind his head, sitting near the ground. "You're well?"

"Not in tip top shape, but I'm alive." A beat passed. "Mind telling us what happened back there?" He didn't want Spock to strain himself, but he thought it may distract the Vulcan from the situation. That, and he wanted to know what the  _hell_  happened back there.

"Now wait, give him some time to —"

"Surely you yourself are curious, Doctor?" interjected Spock, coughing a few times. McCoy considered for a few moments, and closed his open mouth. He shook his head as Spock tried to sit up.

"It's like you want me to have an aneurysm." He reached out and helped the Vulcan sit up against the trunk, his shoulder careful not to touch the captain's. McCoy didn't miss the side glance to Kirk's shredded upper arm, a flash of contrition crossing his face.

"That looks quite painful, Jim."

"I can say the same for you." Kirk peered over to the painting on Spock's left side, the black and red skin growing up past the neckline. Spock absently lifted his hand to the lesion, brushing a thumb over the damning blueprint. His control did nothing for his quaking hands.

"You guys are a matching pair." teased McCoy with a grumble. Spock dropped his hand back to his side.

"This moon is unlike anything we have encountered, gentlemen." He began. "I could not…sustain the meld long enough to fully process the information." He coughed again, leaning forward as his stomach contracted painfully. Kirk reached his hand out, wanting to help, but Spock shook his head in protest and leaned back.

"I am alright. I sensed another mind," he continued, "as I was searching for the two of you. I heard Jim…and as I was searching, I realized the mind I was sensing was not another body, but rather an entity. It is a massive connection, based within this moon."

McCoy listened carefully, to not just the words but the hitching of the Vulcan's breath. His voice was unstable, his chest struggling for adequate air. McCoy swallowed, his heart beating quicker with his realization. Spock wasn't going to last through the day. He saw it in his translucent skin, in the map that decorated his neck and lower jaw. There was no need to lift the shirt to know it was encasing his heart. He swallowed as he thought how it was a miracle in itself that the Vulcan managed to stay alive in his isolated time on the moon.

"There is intelligent life on this moon, although I know not where or how. Their way of communication is largely though a network of sentient connection, based in the ground. The moment I had a link through the tree, I was aware of a complicated —" He stopped and closed his eyes, not aware he had brought his hand up to clutch his side.

"…Spock —"

"One moment, doctor." he managed. He suddenly felt extremely fatigued, a want for sleep taking over him. It was strange, he thought with mixed curiosity and annoyance. He'd never experienced a want for sleep — meditation, perhaps. Rest. Never sleep.

"You're saying that whatever is living here, shares a mind that's installed within this moon?" ventured Kirk. He watched as Spock slowly uncurled himself. He needed Spock to continue speaking, for the both of them to forget the approaching inevitable.

"They do not share a mind, rather their minds share each other. They are wired, in a sense, into the living roots of the moon. It is a way of communication and living we simply do not understand. I am unsure if they have a spoken language or if it is metabolically, silently understood through petrodynamics. Again, I do not understand it and I only felt a glimpse of it. However, I do know the crystals serve as base points. It is why that tree attacked you. It serves as protection for the crystals." Kirk glanced down at Spock's hand, still clutching the side where his heart lay. His voice was slightly stronger than it was when he first spoke.

"You just  _had_ to have those crystals, Jimmy," chastised McCoy with a smile that didn't quite reach his ears. Kirk shrugged. The doctor paused.

"Where the devil are they? Snatched away by that overgrown vegetable?"

It was Kirk's turn to smile wearily, his hand reaching into his pants pocket and displaying several dazzling rocks in his palm. The doctor tsked.

"Should I return them, Spock?" asked Kirk.

"Not necessary, Captain. Once broken from the roots, they are of no use."

"These crystals…it's what that alien wanted. All of this…and that," Kirk nodded to Spock's shoulder. "are because of these." A hint of dismay lined his voice. "And why? If they're of no use now, why would it so desperately want them?"

"If you recall, that alien had said it was banished to that planet. A dead planet, with others," began Spock. He paused as as a tremor of pressure briefly pushed into his side. "I hypothesize these crystals may be rejuvenated somehow, perhaps by botanist operations or something of the like, and used to create a foundation similar to the one on this moon. Those aliens we encountered…should they get their hands on this crystal, it would prove to be quite —" he hesitated again as his body betrayed him, a dormant part of him becoming annoyed at the physical ailments. A wave of heat ran from his head to his toes, and he was eerily reminded of the agony he'd felt on the bridge that day.

"…bad." finished McCoy quietly. Spock nodded.

"To put it lightly, yes."

Kirk clenched his jaw a few times as he surveyed the scene. A small collection of red blood had gathered below his arm, his skin displaying trails of his open wound. The pain had subsided into a pulsing headache, McCoy's belt numbing most of his nerves.

The timer had diminished to four hours.

— — —

Scotty found himself pacing on the bridge. The entire bridge hadn't slept a wink, choosing instead to stay at their posts in the hopes of a distress call from Kirk.

"Anythin' come in from the landing camera probes?" he asked hopefully.

Chekhov shook his head. "No sir. It is wery unfaforable in hopes of finding them with zese probes. Za moon is quite large, and these probes can only cover a wery small amount per hour."

"But, sir," Sulu swiveled to face the acting Captain. "The storm, it's moving rapidly. We can see parts of the moon we couldn't see before. They could down there, in those sectors. We can access that land with the probes now."

"Well how much longer we got, then?"

Sulu internally sighed; Scotty had been asking that question every five minutes.

"Three hours and forty-seven minutes."

"Agh, crivvens!"

"We'll keep looking, sir."

How definite was Kirk's order? Was he really irrefutable in the whole 24 hours command? Surely he could understand — there was too much to cover with simple landing probes. It would take weeks to search the entire moon…24 hours just wasn't enough.

Scotty sighed as he recognized the truth — an order was an order. Everything he felt for Kirk was complete respect, and as a gentleman and an officer he couldn't see himself to disobey the man. But something inside him kept tugging him back to that second option…

They stay, and they search.

He scratched the back of his neck and walked down to stand by Sulu, placing his arm on the back of the helmsman's chair.

"How dreadful would it be to break an order if it involved us saving the arse of the man who ordered it?"

Sulu half smiled and looked up to meet Scotty's eyes, and the room lingered on the words they anticipated Scott to say.

"Are we gonna stay and save these jack asses?"

"Ay, Laddie. Can't see it any other way, to be honest."

The bridge smiled, all agreeing on the decision. Scotty enjoyed taking over the conn once in a while during the Enterprise's missions, but it was events like these that made him want to never sit in the chair again. Nope, the whirring of machinery and humming of tubes and banging of cargo bay doors are what felt like home to him.

"Well lets get some landing probes down there, then? I want 12 in this upper hemisphere where the rain has cleared," he pointed to a diagram on the screen. "and 12 in the lowest hemisphere. We'll keep the remaining 6 back here where the storm hasn't touched yet."

"You got it, Captain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy I started writing this fic. I originally had a vision of just one scene and that's the reason I began writing it, but I didn't have anything planned out. The planning came after the first few chapters. I am in awe that I've written so much. I have never written something this long before, and before this, I rarely wrote at all. I can see my progress through the chapters, I think. Because of all that, I think that once I finish the story, I'm going to go back and revise the story and repost it. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for reading this. It's a really nice thing knowing there are people waiting to read the rest of your story. LLAP


	21. Distilled Desperations

“He’s weak, Jim.” whispered McCoy. “He can’t keep this up.”

“He’s not going to die.”

“He _is_ going to die.”

“Dammit, McCoy —“

“You’re blinding yourself!” McCoy’s face contorted in frustrated anger. “How can you still believe that he’s going to make it? Even if we were still on the ship, he would still die. The venom in his bloodstream is too foreign to us, too unpredictable…there is no antidote, there is no cure, there is no saving him. He will die.” 

It was confirmed that Spock could not travel; they were stranded. The ship was long gone, if Scotty knew how to follow orders, and Spock was on the brink of death. To McCoy, it seemed as black and white as the planet they were stranded on. Spock would die, and the Captain and himself would adapt to life on the moon until something else was made apparent to them. To Kirk…well, he couldn’t see it through the doctor’s eyes.

“I know things seem bleak right now, Bones, but we’ve been in worse situations before, right? And we’ve always made it back to the ship in one piece — alive. This is not the day he’s going to die.”

“There will always be a day where someone dies. Today just happens to be his day, Jim.”

Spock lay beside a pathetic excuse of a fire. The two abled men had found some downed limbs and used their phasers to create heat, but the wood was simmered and crackling. Hardly any flames rose from it — only a dim, blood orange light was emitted from the embers. Night had fallen and foreign stars decorated the sky. He tried to ignore the conversation the other two men were having only meters away, but his Vulcan ears couldn’t not pick up the audio. It didn’t necessarily bother him; he knew what would become of him and his life. It was the fact that Captain Kirk would not accept the truth that disturbed Spock. 

“It’s dark for the second time we’ve been here, Jim. I don’t know how he’s made it this long, but he won’t make it for longer. He’s borderline delirious.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving up on him.”

“I’m not giving up, Jim, dammit, I’m just telling you what is!”

Spock felt an uncomfortable pressure over his heart. It fell on his chest and encompassed his thoughts. A vignette conquered his vision, blackness threatening the corners of his eyes. Small pulses of pain danced down from his collarbone. Most of the agony he had encountered in the last few days had subsided into numbing sensations — it was something he did not consider to be an advantageous sign.

“What can we do with these crystals? There has to be _something_ we can try with these that could help him!”

“Jim,” McCoy felt his eyes begin to well up. Why couldn’t the Captain just accept this? Why was he making this so difficult? “Those crystals did nothing but tear you up. We can’t save him. I can’t save him.”

An intrusive and unstoppable haze trickled into the Vulcan’s mind. The tug of unconsciousness teased him. Before, when he had episodes of intense anguish and pain, he felt himself wanting to be unconscious — to make it stop. Now, he felt something different; not a want for the blackness, but a need for it. If he let himself slip away, he knew he would never return.

“Spock.”

The doctor’s voice passed through the arriving blackness. 

“Spock…!”

He felt a shake to his shoulder, his bad shoulder…his eyes snapped open in alarm and he met the cyan blue eyes of Leonard McCoy. The doctor’s expression was something not akin to what Spock was used to.

“Spock, you have to stay awake, alright?” He said. McCoy knew Spock would die. He was realistic about it. But, even after that confirmation, he couldn’t bring himself to let it happen. Not until it was absolutely inevitable. 

“Doctor, I’m —“ A chill ran through Spock and his skin trembled. His hands were permanently quaking. 

“Look, Spock…”

“Do not feel the need for condolences, McCoy…” Spock managed. “We both knew this was coming.”

“No.” Jim took the place of the commanding medical officer. “No. Stop that. You’re sounding like McCoy, which I know for a fact is something you’ve never wanted to do.”

Was that the Captain’s voice? He heard him before his eyes could register his presence. 

“Spock you gotta hold on.” pled Jim’s voice. Why couldn’t he see him? “Hold on.”

“Jim…” his tongue didn’t seem to be connected to his brain. Everything that once seemed so subconscious now took immense amounts of effort. “It’s alright, Jim.”

“No. Look, we’re gonna figure this out, alright? We always do. We always do.” Spock felt a pressure on the side of his face. “Keep your eyes open.”

The act of breathing had become quite difficult. An uncomfortable feeling accompanied each inhale — the act of resistance to what was coming for him. He wanted to tell his Captain that he needed to move on, that he needed to find a way home for himself and the doctor. But, he simply couldn’t find the energy for it.

“Don’t mourn for long, Jim. Truly, you have better things ahead of you.” was all he could manage. A tear fell from the Captain’s face, it’s substance joining the dampness of the mud beneath the Vulcan.

“Spock, you’re supposed to live longer than me, remember?” Another tear joined the puddle.

“You aren’t supposed to die yet.”

Spock tried to reply, but his motor skills had diminished to the level his life held practice at — nothing. All he could voice was a small, inaudible exhale and a touch to the Captain’s hand. He spread his fingers into the Vulcan salute, his finger’s splayed over Jim’s palm. Everything he felt for his relationship with Jim was within that hand signal. _Please…live long and proser, Jim._

His eyelids felt heavy and his thoughts diminished. He didn’t realize his eyes had closed and his chin touched the dirt. Nothingness overtook him.

“Spock.” Jim shook the Vulcan’s shoulders. “Spock! No! Wake up!” He shook again. The only response was the pale head lolling to the side. 

“No…” Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. He took the limp Vulcan into his arms, the doctor spectating silently to the side. McCoy shared in his own wet eyes. He choked back a sob as he recalled all that had happened - the incident on the bridge, the discovery of the collarbone, the collapsed lung, and finally the realization that nothing could fix it…

He was dead.

A twig snapped in the distance. Kirk shot his head up, his commanding senses on alert. A lasting tear fell beneath his eyes and onto the still face of Commander Spock.

“Jim…” started McCoy.

“I know I heard it.”

He held onto Spock as he listened. A soft, quiet, eerie whistle of the wind blew through the trees. It didn’t sound natural.

_There is intelligent life on this moon, although I know not where or how._ Spock’s analysis of the mind meld ran though the forefront of Kirk’s memory. He tightened his grip on the Vulcan’s body as his voice drifted through Kirk’s mind. 

“Who’s out there?” he dared. Leaves rustled all around him until he and the doctor were turning their heads in all directions, their eyes desperate to locate the source. 

A whiteness appeared in the corner of Kirk’s eyes, and he whipped his head around to find an alien figure twenty feet away from him.

He froze as he registered what he saw. It was completely identical to the alien found on Planet M684 — the planet where this all began. Identical except for the color…where the primary alien was completely black, this one was white. The thin body and scaly complexion kept it’s course. A fitting observation for the moon they found themselves on.

Jim kept his eyes completely on the figure, his mouth closed and his voice lost. A mixture of anger and weariness lined his blood.

“Your friend is dying.” said the figure. 

Kirk’s heart picked up pace, his eyes unblinking. _“My friend is dead.”_ he wanted to say. However, he had no want to speak with this creature. His silence held still. 

“Your friend is dying.” it repeated. Kirk swallowed. McCoy took a few steps closer to the Captain, their only defense being each other. 

“Why have you come here?” It asked. Still, neither the doctor nor the Captain responded. It cocked it’s head in distilled wonder. 

“We are unaware of who exactly you may be…however, we mean you no harm.” It’s voice held strong and it’s image did not falter like it’s prior brethren. It appeared to shed the assumption of being a hologram. “Your friend is dying of something we know well.” 

The embers of the old fire crackled in the silence. Lit ashes danced in the wind. Every alert in Kirk’s mind was on red, and his muteness was irrefutably strong. Spock’s anguished cry on the bridge echoed in the back of his mind. 

“You are human, as is your companion. The one, laying still…he is not.”

_Your half-breed friend will be dead._

“Let us help you. We can help you.”

Two more white aliens appeared from the blackness of the night, taking a place behind the one speaking. Their appearances seemed somewhat translucent, as if their physical figures didn’t hold the intimidation the first ones possessed. Kirk swallowed, his muscles locked in a cage around Spock’s body. Every yell, every scream, every trigger of agony that Spock had displayed in the past several days was fresh in the air. His body was limp, but his impact was strong. Kirk clenched his jaw as he processed the words from the beings before him. 

Another crack of fire split the wood. 

“I don’t believe you.” He finally said, his voice low with repressed rage. 

The fiery light from the fallen limbs hardly illuminated Spock’s face, his head loose over the Captain’s arm and his eyes peacefully closed. The alien looked on.

“You have encountered our counterparts, I can see.” it replied. “They have harmed you. Harmed this one you care about. The Vulcan.”

Kirk’s nostrils flared as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. He couldn’t deal with the loss of Spock now — he had to wait, wait until he was alone. Not now. 

“They’ve poisoned him to force you to free them from that planet. A planet they cannot escape.”

McCoy’s breath hitched in his chest. They knew…

“Poisoned him with a toxin extremely rare, only found in one of two places…an Angurian Jade flower,” the alien extended it’s palm towards Kirk. “…and Nvandian crystals.” 

The crystals previously in the Captain’s pocket slowly extracted themselves until they were levitating in the air, the alien’s hand out, controlling their path. A flashback of wires ensnaring a first officer’s jaw became apparent. 

“We ask for your forgiveness…they were never meant to be in discourse with any other beings. I see you are afraid, of us. Of myself, because of what our counterparts have done to you.”

The exhaustion, depreciation, hunger, fatigue, and immense stress Kirk had been under suddenly found their way as the alien spoke. He took heavy breaths through his nose as he attempted to still himself. 

“Please, your friend…he has only seconds.” 

McCoy found himself staring directly at Spock. His skin was the color of death. His chest and lungs were unmoving. His life seemed to have slipped out of him and absolved into the drying, dark mud that held opposite the sky. He was so still, there wasn’t even a twitch of his finger.

 

He found himself wanting to say something, to tell his Captain that they should trust these beings. They were Spock’s last hope — yet their presence brought along a sense of hate and aberration. The things McCoy had witnessed at the hands of this species…

 

“I don’t trust you.” repeated Kirk, fresh tears welling in the corner of his eyes. Spock was dead in his arms. He refused to hold the dead body of Leonard McCoy too.

The alien was silent, it’s glowing presence providing a soft light in the dark. The silvery grass around it’s feet illuminated the dirt. It held still, it’s eyes locked with Kirk’s. 

“I do not expect you to trust me. However, I can save him.” It took a precautionary, yet confident step forward. At the sight of Kirk’s stationary position, it took another step forward, it’s movements unthreatening and slow. It kept it’s palm outreached as the crystals slowly fell to the dirt beside Kirk’s hip. 

“I can save him.” It repeated with another step. Kirk found himself tightening his protective grip on Spock, fearing any more harm that could come to his dead body from this grisly species. Kirk held eyes with the alien, the white being’s gaze holding a color Kirk was not familiar with. He watched it as it kneeled before him, it’s eyes asking permission. Kirk found he could not object.

The being turned it’s palm upwards, the freshly dug crystals keying their way to it’s hand. It slowly curled it’s fingers inwards until the stones were enclosed in a fist. Kirk found he was holding his breath as he watched the alien only inches away from him uncurl it’s fingers to reveal shimmering scales. The crystals were gone, their light absorbed into the foreign hand.

The being looked down at it’s palm and back up to Kirk, who’s expression was frozen. His fingers felt senseless at the grip he had on Spock.

At the lack of a protest, the colorless alien placed it’s palm over Spock’s side, where his heart lay. The glow it possessed from the crystals transferred from it’s pigmentation over to beneath the torn shirt Spock wore. The captain tried not to let his hopes pour out, to actually believe that Spock could be saved…

But then he moved. 

It was only barely. A small move of the head to the side. Kirk’s breath hitched as he pulled the Vulcan closer, the presence of the aliens completely insignificant. McCoy dropped to his knees besides Kirk as he hovered over the once dead man.

“The toxin is obsolete, but the trauma on his body is not. I am not limitless; I can not fix him completely.” It rose to it’s feet and backtracked several inches. “He is, however, alive.”

Kirk looked up, an unspeakable relief slowing his senses as a mixture of anger and confusion lined his brain.

“Who are you?”

“We are the Qrukaai. We’ve kept ourselves from your Federation, as your species and the ones within your system are not familiar with us. We do things, and understand things, you simply do not. We were careless in our disposal of our outcasts — the ones who prefer harm than peace. I suspect what they asked of you.”

“They tried to kill him for those damned crystals.” McCoy stood, indignation lining his body language. “You have no idea what they’ve done to him.”

The alien looked down to the doctor, who in turn felt a chill run down his spine. 

“Truly, in the only way we know how, we regret what your friend and yourselves have encountered. Wholly, it is our doing.”

“Well if you’re so high and fucking mighty, then what are you gonna do about it?!”

The figure straightened itself and cocked it’s head. “We will adhere to our mistake. You can trust in that.”

“We have no communication with our ship.” stated Kirk, his eyes meeting the ones of the alien. “You’ve erased the toxin, but his ailments will still kill him.”

The figure nodded as it looked up through the canopy. “Life on this moon is hidden from your instruments, Captain. I take the liberty in assuming you as the Captain.” It continued looking towards the stars. “I hypothesize you were alarmed at how the moon truly thrived when you arrived here…it is because of these crystals. They are not known to your Federation, and your instruments do not understand how life is formed from them. Everything from the dirt to the atmosphere is evolved from this crystal…it is why you lost communication with your ship.”

“Someone took him from us. From our ship.” McCoy took a step forward. “Why?”

The alien turned and began to walk away. 

“HEY! Why did you intercept our beam and take him?!” 

The white figure returned to it’s small group and faced the decrepit trio.

“Because he had the crystal within his system. Thinking he was one of our own, returned for redress…we expected to kill him.” 

Silence filled the forest, the distant roll of thunder filling the air. Wind played at Kirk’s hair.

“You will find you can return to your ship.”

“Wait — no, we have so many questions!”

“You will also find that you and your Federation will never be able to find this moon or that abandoned planet again.”

“Please —!”

“Our banished brothers and sisters will no longer see the light you see at every waking moment.”

“Wait!!!”

As quickly as they had arrived, the three beings from darkness had vanished. Stillness settled in their wake.

The remaining charred piece of wood spat out a few embers before billowing the light away into the night, the heat and the color vanishing like the beings before it.

In the silence, the dark, and the inexplicable, they were once again alone.


	22. The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

Spock’s head barely ticked every several minutes, the only indication he was still alive besides the quiet, shuddering breaths he took in. 

“How is he?” dared Kirk.

“He’s, somehow, still alive. I don’t get it, Jim. He should be dead. He’s malnourished, dehydrated, severely fatigued, and his entire system is basically shut down. One of his lungs is on half capacity, since the incident in sickbay, his heart is very, very weak, his blood cells are —“ 

“Alright, alright, I know, that’s not what I — I just…I need you to say that he can make it if we get the Enterprise back. I need to hear you say that he’s going to make it.”

McCoy shook his head as he looked down at Spock, the chalky mud beginning to dry on the man’s sickbay shirt. His normally kept hair was askew, a small gash of green blood matting down the left part of his hairline. The doctor wasn’t sure if the Vulcan had acquired it before or after he collapsed by the tree.

The list he had echoed to his captain was perturbing to the southern man — Spock had seen his share of injuries during their exploration duties, as they all had, but what had transpired in the last week was indefinitely beyond those adventures.

Even more unsettling was that he knew what was wrong with Spock just by looking at him, and by knowing what events had transpired. Who knows what lay beneath the obvious? Foolishly, he hadn’t thought of snatching a basic medical kit when he and Jim had beamed down. He didn’t even have a medical scanner.

_“I didn’t think of having you bring one either, Bones. We’re unstable, not thinking straight…it’s not your fault. Besides, you know as well as I do that a portable medical kit couldn’t put a dent on his condition. He needs something beyond a few hyposprays and your ‘magic’ touch.”_

McCoy wanted to smack the captain upside the head for his clowning, but he knew he had a point, albeit a small one. But how could he forget even something as simple as a medical scanner? 

He exhaled and picked at a plant from the ground, a bead of moisture dropping off the stem from his contact.

“Bones?”

A tired, worried voice cut through his guilt. He snapped his head up, almost forgetting that he was in company. His friend, his captain, looked so incredibly weary. He was beginning to pale at his blood loss, though it had mostly clotted by now, and it seemed as though he had aged a decade. 

“Sorry, Jim. I guess I’m a bit out of it. I, uh,” he plucked the plant out from the mud and twirled it absently between his fingers. “I can’t tell you straight that he’s going to make it. I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t even know how’s alive in the first place. And the Enterprise…well, who knows how far it is now —“

“We were able to make contact, McCoy, that’s —“

“A couple exchanges of static isn’t really considered contact, Jim.”

“No but that means they know we’re here! They’ve got to be coming back.”

“But where could they be? One solar hour away? Two? Ten? He may not last until then. I don’t know. I don’t.”

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck and looked up to the sky, hoping to see a small light moving across the blackness. There was nothing but stationary twinkling. 

“Why did they say we could contact the ship if we can’t?”

“Well, he did say he wasn’t limitless. Or, it said. Whatever.”

Kirk let out a puff of air through his nose, almost amused by the irony. “Funny that it said that, considering it’s the opposite of what the first one said.”

“Funny.” agreed McCoy quietly.

The dull roar of wind played against the trees. The tips of Spock’s ears were turning a pale shade of blue in the cold, his left hand occasionally twitching in his unconsciousness. At a certain point, Kirk felt he could no longer stare at him. A deep sickness had settled in his gut the moment this had all happened, and it had yet to disappear. There was never a moment in Kirk’s life where he had felt so incredibly weary. In the silence of the passing time, prior and after the discovery of Spock and the aliens, Kirk’s mind drifted to specific memories. Memories that he once reflected upon with warmth and comfort, but he feared he would soon reflect upon with pain and torment. 

He put his forehead in his hand and closed his eyes.

* _krrrrsht* “_ -ptain Kirk, can ye read me? Come in, Kir* _shhhht*_ ”

McCoy and Kirk simultaneously jerked their heads up in alarm, their eyes locked. Kirk snatched the communicator from McCoy’s hand, his own lost in the tree skirmish, and flipped it open.

“Scotty! Scotty I’m here, we’re here, can you hear me?”

“JIM! Oh thank crivvens, I though we’d lost you for good til we got that message o’ static, Lochness in a river, am I glad to hear your voice! HA! Do you hear that, Sulu! I went on and told you that disengaging those ancient wavelengths would clear something up now didn’t I? Jim, Sulu here thought —”

“Scotty where are you? You gotta get us back up there! How long until you can get here? If you have to push those engines, Scott, you do it!”

“We’re still in orbit, sir! We have been this whole time, scanning every inch of that damn place tryin’ to find the lot of you!”

Kirk raised his eyebrows in surprise at the blatant disregard of orders, but his brow was where his surprise stopped. The Scotsman had the heart of a stubborn lion.

McCoy returned the snatching, grabbing the device from his friend’s unsuspecting hands.

“Well then what in the goddamn hell is the hold up?!” he shouted into it. Kirk swiped it back into his own fingers, shooting McCoy a look.

“Look, Scotty, time is of the essence here.”

“Well I figure as much, sir, but it’s mighty difficult to get through this atmosphere! You won’t believe this, but I can’t read anything on this ugly, forsaken floating rock. I didn’t think I’d learn to hate something like I do this moon, Captain. I know I beamed the lot of you down there, and clearly that’s where you’re at, but the scanners are still reading it as dead! It’s just like that —“

“Like that planet, Scott, I know. I have answers for you, but first we have to _get out of here_. We found Spock,” he heard a couple relieved whispers from the communicator. “but he’s in bad shape. You have to find a way to beam us up.”

“Jim, I…frankly, I just, I don’t know how! I’ve tried everything I could think of, but I cannae snap my fingers and get your sorry arses back up to the transporter pad!”

McCoy covered his mouth in an attempt to hide his laugh. Kirk cocked his head disapprovingly to the doctor.

“Scotty, you’re a miracle man. Find a way.”

Kirk suddenly heard McCoy curse vehemently under his breath before he called out to him.

“Jim —!” 

Kirk tore his eyes away from the communicator to the horrifying sight of Spock’s laying body begin to fade away, just like it did in the transporter room days ago. Immediate anger fumigated in his stomach. His eyes turned treacherous and he lowered the communicator. 

“Oh, _fuck no.”_ he growled dangerously. He made a move to reach out to grab onto the Vulcan, but as he did so, he noticed his own hand was the shade of opacity as Spock’s. Alarmed, he looked back to McCoy. He, too, was disappearing. 

Before he could communicate his thoughts to McCoy, the bridge of the Enterprise formed before their eyes and the solidity of the familiar tile was felt beneath them. His intense anger dissolved into wonder and an ocean of relief overcame him. 

“Bones.”

“On it.”

The shocked faces of Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and the rest of the bridge was entirely unnoticed as the two of them lifted Spock off the ground and charged towards the turbo lift.

The sound of Scott stuttering fell on deaf ears.

Of course, McCoy and Kirk understood what must have happened. They’d come back. Those beings of dull light and mysticism had come back. They had taken some form of action, for some reason or another…but they had come back.

The acting captain and his crew, opposite the two ragged men, however, were completely appalled. 

“What the devil is happening?! Jim?! Where did ye come from?! Were you on a ship do we need to warp out of the area?! JIM!!”

His mouth held agape as the turbo lift closed and the bridge was once again in their absence. He turned to face the bridge, his eyes bugged out from his sockets. 

“Am I insane? Am I unfit for duty? Did you sorry lollisanders see what I just saw?”

“Holy shit.” Sulu’s mutter was the only answer Scott would receive.

The Vulcan had felt lighter being dragged to sickbay than the last time McCoy and Kirk had done this. His body was thin, his frame long and frail. It was a blessing he was unconscious, as the two men were practically hauling him across the ship as rapidly as they could.

McCoy almost kicked the automatic door open, it’s normally quick movement seeming to take a lifetime. The moment they entered, Nurse Chapel whipped around from the supply station and dropped the books she was holding.

“Leonard?! Oh my God, what —?”

“Christine, shove your questions up your ass and get me the strongest goddamn hemolytic hypo in those drawers!”

They lifted Spock up atop the biobed he so often occupied. Chapel bolted over with McCoy’s wish and he immediately pushed it into Spock’s side, right above the Vulcan’s fluttering heart. He barked a few more orders to her and she willingly obliged. Kirk took a few steps back as he observed, desperate for the doctor to turn around and tell him the Vulcan was going to be fine. That this entire motherfucking _nightmare_ could be over.

An hour passed.

“Scott to sickbay.”

McCoy turned around from his hovering and looked to Kirk expectantly. He knew the call wasn’t for him. Kirk shuffled to the wall dial.

“Kirk here.” he answered softly.

“Captain…well I think you owe me some answers, sir.” His voice was stable, but troubled. Kirk exhaled slowly, clenched his jaw, and nodded.

“Yes I think you’re right about that. I’m on my way up.” He shut off the intercom. “Bones…”

“Jim, I got him. I think he’s going to be OK. I’ve done everything I physically can for him right now and, although his vitals are low, they are improving. He’s on the up.”

Kirk swallowed and looked up to the ceiling as he felt a damp relief form in his eyes. He blinked them away and nodded to his friend. 

“I’ll be back down.”

“I know.”

The trip back up to the bridge seemed like a snap compared to when they were dragging Spock down. Then, it seemed as though they’d never arrive.

It wasn’t a simple conversation. There was immediate distrust in Scott’s eyes when Kirk explained the new aliens’ presence, and what they had said and done down in the forest. Since the beginning, when the engineer had called their bluff, he felt personally attacked at everything that had transpired. His soul was wounded, angered, beaten. His friends even more so. He stared in contempt at the bandaging on Kirk’s arm, small bouts of red seeping through. What it looked like beneath the bandaging was vivid in Scott’s mind, being one of the first thing’s he noticed when his captain unexpectedly appeared right in front of his eyes.

“How do you know they really got that toxin out from him, Captain? What if they amplified it? Or injected you with it? How could you be so sure?”

“I just could feel it, Scotty. When it kneeled down in front of me and put it’s hand on Spock — the air seemed brighter and there was a strange wave of…existence.” Sulu and Chekov exchanged soft glances. “It’s incredibly hard for me to explain, Scott, but I just could feel it. I felt it leave Spock’s body, I felt his heartbeat stop and start again. For a single moment, all the exhaustion and stress and utter desperation dissipated, and I felt hope. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.” His voice was soft and gravely, his eyes tired but alight as he recalled the night. 

“Their friends had a hidden agenda before, Jim.”

“They’re not friends, Scotty. It’s like the allies and the axis, the confederates and the union, the  liberals and the conservatives, the himogodins and the retrogrades. Same people, but different agendas. They’re not each other.”

“What did they look like, Captain?” asked Uhura. Kirk lifted his eyebrows and shrugged.

“I guess, they looked quite a lot like the others. But there was a presence of life to them. As if they could touch the Mojave desert and a rainforest would spring up from beneath it. When it was near me, the air in my lungs felt chilled. It was such a bizarre feeling. But not as if I was walking through the Alaskan tundra, but rather…rather as if…”

“As if you just saw an entire world created from the universe?” offered Chekov. Kirk looked to him in surprise, his eyes lingering on the young kid for a few moments. He nodded.

“Yes, I suppose that’s rather close to it, Pavel.”

“This is a mighty dangerous business we’ve gotten ourselves in, Captain.” stated Scott, his eyes strong. Kirk nodded again.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Scott sighed.

“Is this really over, Jim?”

“I think it is, Scotty.”

 

 

 

_It's **not.**_


	23. Hidden in the Light

“Hey.” Jim breathed as he swooshed through the door. His face was bright and alighted, something of a contrast to the doctor’s. McCoy groaned.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

The doctor shook his head in annoyance and waved him off, turning to skulk into his office. The door closed behind him. Kirk pressed his lips together and looked around the sickbay, his hands on his hips.

“How’s your arm feel?” asked a voice behind him. Kirk turned to face Chapel and shrugged.

“He gave me enough of that stuff to numb an elephant.”

She smiled and quietly walked up to the captain, her fingers prodding at the bandages. At the lack of a wince from the captain, she nodded in approval. She pressed two fingers into his skin, below the elbow, and noted how his complexion reacted.

“Seems like the transfuse took well. You’re not light headed at all?”

“No.” he smiled at her. “Is Spock —?”

“He’s stable, Captain.” she reassured.

“McCoy said he hasn’t gone into the healing process.”

“He’s far too weak for that. Vulcans are able to do so on a dime, but they need enough brain and body power to slip into something so delicate. When he came in with the two of you…well, he’s very lucky to be alive.”

“He doesn’t believe in luck.” Kirk grumbled under his breath.

“Hmm?”

“Oh, I was just saying — never mind. Will he be able to go through it once he regains his strength?”

“Jim, wouldya stop harassing my nurse?” McCoy’s impatient voice barked past the office door. “If you want to go hold his hand, he’s literally in the same room he’s always in.”

Kirk turned his head towards the man’s office, his mouth open to retort, but he figured it was pointless. He sighed and scratched his head.

“Has he rested at all?” He asked her quietly, motioning to McCoy’s door. 

“I’VE RESTED AS MUCH AS I DAMN WELL WANTED, JIM.” Kirk heard the scratch of a chair against tile. He groaned as the doctor’s angry stomps approached and the door was thrown open. 

“What the hell are you doing down here anyway? Go sleep dammit, I’m tired of you haunting my sickbay!”

Kirk threw up his hands defensively. “Calm down, Sally, I just wanted to check on you.”

“Listen, Patricia,” he spat back. “you’ve stalked down to this room at least five times since we got back here seven hours ago, and you had orders to _rest._ Is this resting, Jim?! Does this look like you’re following my orders? The answer is NO. So eat the sass and carry your pale rear back to your quarters before I shove so much sedative into your brain you won’t even know what your own last name is!”

“You seem a little grumpy, Bones.” 

“BECAUSE I AM GRUMPY! DO YOU HAVE ANY —“

His bellows continued to ride the steam from his ears as Chapel amusedly led the Captain back out into the corridor. The doors swished closed, McCoy’s ranting continuing to un-present ears.

“He hasn’t rested since you’ve all come back, but I don’t think you have either.” Chapel gave gently. 

“Well I did try, but as you might imagine it’s not entirely easy after all this.” He replied in mild frustration. 

“We have pills for that —“

Kirk shook his head and paced a few steps. “No, not right now. Those things knock me out, and we barely got back. It would be irresponsible.” 

Chapel looked down to the Captain’s boots, noting the chalky dirt that covered the leather and matted up his pants. Her chief medical officer looked the same. She raised her eyebrows as she silently mused. 

She in part wanted to tell the Captain that in such circumstances, it might be more irresponsible to operate in his condition than it would be to sleep— that his officers can take over for him, she can take over for McCoy — that the two of them need rest about as much as Commander Spock needed it. 

She shook her head, knowing it would be futile to mention such things. 

The door opened once more to reveal a begrudging McCoy. He looked between the two of them and settled on Kirk.

“It’s your lucky day, princess. Seems like he’s about to wake up.”

Kirk’s face brightened as he stepped past McCoy, the nurse and her doctor exchanging amused expressions.

“I’m going to check on the bridge officers.” Christine offered, quickly glancing in at Spock’s room before smiling at McCoy. He turned a corner of his mouth up, constantly puzzled at the charm the Vulcan seemed to hold over not only his Captain, but nurse as well.

“Thanks, Christine.” 

She glided down the hallway, her stunning silver hair sporting a few fly-a-ways in the unending bustle. He took in a deep breath as he watched her turn the corner. 

“Alright.” he muttered to himself. “Don’t yell at him. Be nice.” He had to repeat the mantra Chapel ordered of him for when Spock woke. “Don’t yell at him. Be nice.” He sighed and cracked his neck. “Be nice.” 

He had been so incredibly distressed over Spock for so long, his tact meter was dipping well into the negatives. He always felt more lively after screwing with Spock, particularly when he had the upper hand, and he wanted nothing more than to chastise the man for almost dying, though it wasn’t his fault exactly. Was it a logical desire? No. _But dammit I am human and I don’t give a rats ass about it._

“He’s still out.” Kirk rebuked when McCoy walked in.

“Yeah, his brain activity took a turn. It’s a sign he’s coming out of it, just give it a sec. Jesus, you’re the most impatient man I’ve ever met.”

Kirk turned in feigned defense. “Me? I don’t know Bones, you’re a pretty competitive contender for that.”

“Shut up, Jim.”

Kirk cracked a smile as he turned back to look at the Vulcan on the biobed. For the first time in days, he looked alive. He didn’t exactly look well, but he no longer held the appearance that the Grim Reaper was coming for him at any moment. 

Two separate IVs were hooked up to his veins. It was a practice not normally used these days, being something of the medical past — but occasionally, when the body was desperate enough and needed constant external help, it was known to be exercised. The oxygen mask had found its way back onto his face. A small bandage decorated the hairline gash, a tease of green bleeding through. The skin under his eyes were grey, and the remainder of his body held pale, but the familiar Vulcan tint had found it’s way back to his complexion. His cheekbones seemed more prominent.

Slowly, but steadily, his eyelids opened to reveal tired and confused brown eyes.

“Spock.” McCoy acknowledged, placing his hand on the headboard. He glanced to the readings, comforted by the oxygen level, and used his other hand to remove the mask before Spock did. The Vulcan blinked and shifted his shoulders.

“I am…not dead.”

McCoy actually laughed and rubbed his eyes, a smile plastered on his face. Unexpected ease drifted into his soul. Being nice wasn’t going to be as hard as he thought.

“No, no you’re right about that. You’re not dead.”

“I don’t understand.” The disorientation in his eyes increased as he processed the situation. Quiet beeps filtered out from his biobed monitor. “I should be dead. Or close to it…but I do not feel like I am dying.” He noted the rhythmic notes coming from the monitor, hearing how his heart was entirely more steady than when he’d heard it prior.

“Well, you’re not dying. Your condition is improving, actually, if you can believe it.”

“I apologize, McCoy, but frankly I do not believe it. I’ll admit I am rather perplexed at the moment. The — we’re on the ship.” he realized. He blinked and shook his head, as if to rattle his memories into place. He opened his mouth again, to attempt and understand as his mind drifted back to a storm, a Captain’s tortured yell, never-ending agony in his bones…

“Alright, maybe you should tell him what happened.” Kirk motioned. It was obvious Spock was uncomfortably confused. McCoy nodded in agreement — he wasn’t entirely certain how to approach the explanation.

“It’s kind of a strange thing, Spock.”

Spock had last been fully cognizant when he melded with the mind-connection through the tree, and he had missed almost everything following it. Pieces of an argument by a limp fire drifted through his memory, but he wasn’t certain that was a dream or reality. He laid silently as McCoy recounted the events, Kirk chipping in occasionally to fill in the pieces. They’d both been in ill-shape themselves, particularly in a mental sense, and the night on the planet seemed fuzzy.

For Jim especially, though, the encounter with the moonlit beings was vividly clear. Spock stared at the ceiling above him, his eyebrows only slightly furrowed together, as his captain described what happened. Why Spock was alive, why they were all alive. 

McCoy watched the Vulcan’s expressions as Kirk finished with their final, and unexpected, beam-up to the bridge. He waited to see what Spock would say at the extraordinary and outlandish conclusion, but he maintained stillness.

“Spock?” he prodded. The Vulcan took in a long breath through his nose and turned his head to the doctor.

“It’s fascinating.” he muttered, wondrous. McCoy rolled his eyes, despising that word while feeling relish at it’s familiarity. It seemed ages since he’d heard him say it.

“If only I had been lucid, to observe them myself.” he continued, speaking more to himself than to his colleagues.

“Well you were dead, actually. I’m almost positive you were completely dead, if only for a moment.” 

“Doctor?” 

“Oh yeah. I’ve seen my share of people die. A man can tell.”

“I don’t believe that is possible, Doctor McCoy.”

“None of this was possible.” he shrugged. Surprisingly, Spock accepted his comment and left his thoughts to himself. 

“How do you feel, Spock?” he finally asked. He knew the Vulcan was on the mend, but he couldn’t help but hold his breath. He could hardly remember a time the First Officer was physically fit.

Spock raised his eyebrow. 

“I am…” he lifted a hand to his temple, “rather exhausted.”

“Well you should be. Your cells have been regenerating, you’re welcome by the way, thanks to my hypos, and that can tire a body something fierce. Any pain?”

He blinked sluggishly, the realization of his fatigue pulling sleep into his body. 

“Perhaps.”

McCoy looked back to the levels, the pain reader registering moderate discomfort. Something to be expected, though not desired.

“Alright, you need to sleep. Try and put yourself into a healing trance, alright? You need it.”

Spock nodded. McCoy met Kirk’s eyes and nodded out towards the door. They left the room, with McCoy lingering a moment in the doorway.

“Healing trance.” he repeated. The Vulcan’s eyelids had already closed, his head beginning to droop to the side. “Lights, 25 percent,” grumbled McCoy. They dimmed, the only palpable amount of light filtering in from the open doorway.

“So?” Kirk asked as they made their way back to the main area of the sickbay.

“Looks a helluva lot better, doesn’t he?” remarked McCoy. Kirk scoffed with a smile, nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, he does.”

“You were right all along, Jim. I’m sorry.” 

Kirk cocked his head slightly at the comment. 

“Sorry for what? Besides the aliens, you basically single-handedly saved his life.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe in him. I was absolutely convinced he was on death row, that there was no stopping that train. You were the only one who really believed he was going to make it. And time and time again, you tried to tell me he wasn’t going to die, and I was so vehement against it. I’m sorry.” 

Kirk tapped his thumb against his pant leg. He knew why McCoy had thought that way — it was far more realistic than how Kirk was thinking. 

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Bones. He was on death row. He should have died, and I know that. I just couldn’t accept it.” He gave his friend’s shoulder a hard pat. “It wasn’t my blind belief that saved him, Bones. It was you.”

“Me, and mystical alien voodoo.”

Kirk smiled and chuckled. “Yup.”

“Will you go sleep now?”

“I need to make another pass on the bridge.”

“Alright hurry up.”

Kirk gave him another pat before exiting medical. He brushed shoulders with an approaching Chapel.

“Chapel! How’s my crew?”

“They’re tired, but they’re all healthy and stable. Nothing to worry about. What about that sleep, Captain?”

“Jesus, you and that Chief Medical Officer. I’ll get there in a second. Go convince McCoy to sleep.” 

He left before seeing her smile, making his way to the lift. Seeing Spock alive, and even almost well, had given his subconscious the go-ahead on exhaustion. He suddenly felt very tired. 

He came aboard the bridge, plopping himself another time in the command chair. He’d been in that chair most of the time since their return, besides a small attempt at sleep and his constant visits to sickbay. His officers were collectively relieved at his presence.

“Sulu?”

“We’re almost back to charted territory, Captain. Shouldn’t be more than another two solar hours.”

“Perfect.” He allowed himself to lean back in his chair, brushing his fingers across the familiar buttons on the command side. His eyes locked onto the stars before him, his drained energy temporarily forgotten. 

“Do you want to rest, Captain? I can take over.” offered Sulu. 

“Maybe you should be transferred to medical.” teased Kirk as a warning. Sulu smiled and turned back around in his chair, receiving the message. 

A few hours is what he would allow. A few more hours, until the ship was safely in charted and familiar territory, and Kirk would hand the chair over.

That wish was dismantled as his body suddenly felt chilled. He took an alarmed breath of air in, and his lungs answered with crisp inhalation. He saw the Sulu and Chekov flinch in surprise as well, the entire bridge taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere. 

A figure disintegrated from the air and reformed into a luminous figure that only Kirk could recognize. 

It was the auroral alien from the monochrome moon. 

Kirk lifted himself from his chair, his hands lingering on the armrests as he slowly stood. Uhura felt her breath stop in her chest at the sight of it, it’s appearance near to what she had imagined but far from what she could prepare herself for. 

“What are you doing on this ship?” dared Kirk, his voice awed and soft. One might expect questions and hypotheses running through a man’s mind at a moment such as this, but Kirk found his mind to be stilled and quiet.

“Captain.” It’s voice filled the room, though it’s intonation was gentle and effectuating. “You appear better than how I had left you.” It’s eyes roamed the room. “Your companions are not here…” It turned it’s head slightly to the left. “They are on the 32nd deck…they too are improved.”

“I…why are you here?”

It was silent, though even it’s silence was heard to the ears of the crew members, as if the light it gave off was a sound in itself.

“I had let you leave prematurely.” 

Alone, the sentence sounded like a threat, but coming from the mouth of this particular being, it was received as an un-harrowing statement. 

Every human on that bridge was still, hearts stopped and breathing hitched. Eyes remained unblinking, the ubiquity of the being finding every corner of the room. Kirk swallowed as he waited for an answer to the presence. No fear was held within him, but uncertain curiosity took it’s place. 

A part of him felt delectation at the unexpected appearance — the memory of the being had brought an unsalvageable need to see it once more. To feel what he had felt at it’s confrontation in the forest. The air christened his lungs with every breath. 

It straightened it’s back, the black, starry night of the view screen backdropping it’s whole omnipotence. 

“I have something to ask of you, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end, friends! We're nearing the peak of the third act...as always, thank you for reading. I am still in awe at how far this has gotten. 
> 
> I don't recall if I mentioned this before, but once I finish the story, I'm going to go back and revise the entire thing and repost it. I like to think I had some great ideas, and a few golden moments, but I don't think I entirely executed many of them very well -- particularly in the first half of the story. I'll keep you updated on that progress!
> 
> I love that so many of you are enjoying this read, and I love that I love writing it. Keep reading, I'll keep writing! It's a deal.
> 
> LLAP


	24. A Compulsory Request

“I have something to ask of you, Captain.”

The air in room stilled. Kirk’s eyes were confidently alert, his breathing even with the resounding request. Chekov stole a quick glance to his captain, then returned his astonished gaze back to the alien. 

His young heart beat in anticipation, a subconscious gulp from memories of his science mentor strung up in torture jutted down his throat. 

The young ensign had joined Starfleet for many reasons — a challenge being one of them. And a challenge he had found. Not only in science itself, but matters he hadn’t before considered; courage, for example. 

He was frightened, but perhaps only as frightened as he was expected to be. There was no desire to jump out from his chair and sprint to the lift, but there was also no peace in seeing this foreign, unfamiliar entity before him. He had experienced unqualified horror the last time he’d been ten feet away from an alien like this. 

His vision slightly quaked with each hammering heart beat. 

A wise choice may be to look at his Captain, or his friend Sulu, to distract him from his imagination. But the image of the being held his eyes like a starship tractor beam - he found he could not look away. Not solely due to fear, but true wonder. He was an officer of science, and it was something that came to him far more naturally than things like speaking with women…or anyone, for that matter. Science was something he found completely satiating, and witnessing an unknown like this white being of light drove him to hunger. He found himself wanting to know everything about this creature before him. After several moments, in the corner of his eye, he noticed Kirk shift again.

“You saved my friend…I can repay you only in hearing your request.”

“I understand.” It’s voice filled the room. A sense of deja vu hit the helmsman as soon as it spoke. Before, when the dark creature had materialized and demanded Kirk follow it’s words, the voice of that being had filled the room as well — but in a damning, heart-stopping way. It had thrown violent chills straight down Sulu’s spine with every decibel. 

“After what you and your companions, your ship, has endured…I do not wish to bring you to further harm.” it continued with unalloyed sincerity. Now, Sulu realized, it’s voice saturated the air with softness and awe. The lieutenant remembered Kirk’s description of meeting this being in the forest. 

“I’m anticipating that what you have to ask might bring us to harm.” Kirk said quietly and with temerity. He wished to listen to his emancipator, but he could predict what it would say. Kirk could also predict his own reply. The being shifted it’s stance, as if mirroring Kirk. The subtle light it gave off swayed smoothly, giving it’s movement an effective and eased blur.

“Captain…I wish to know your name.”

Kirk’s brow softened, and his eyes felt weary. 

“Jim Kirk.”

“Captain Kirk…your friend, the Vulcan — I do not know entirely what my strayed brothers had done to him, but I could sense the condition his physical and mental being was in; near death on both accounts.”

Kirk clenched his fist and looked to the floor. Spock was improving, and he wished to never think of how he had been again. 

“In some ways, you understand better than even myself what they could do to others. What they would be _willing_ to do. What they would enjoy doing.” It’s head turned to journey it’s gaze to each crew member. “You, and these souls in this room. You know. You have seen.” 

Kirk blew air from his nose and wrung his hands together. The way this discourse was progressing, the captain knew his mind was bound to change. 

“They are dangerous, Jim Kirk. They will kill, not only one, but thousands. Millions. Of beings, civilizations, planets. I fear I need your help.”

Kirk brought his thumb to his lip and scratched the corner of his mouth, his eyes staring past his new counterpart in thought. He brought his head up to meet it’s eyes.

“What’s your name?” he suddenly asked. The being seemed almost taken aback, surprised by the reply to his words.

“It is not translatable in your speech.”

“But the name of your species was.”

It was silent for a moment. “The name of my species was given to us by creatures like yourselves, who use speech on a universally audible level. The true name of our species, also, is not translatable.” 

“There are others who know of your existence?”

“We are not wholly isolated.”

“What are you asking me to do?”

“I am asking you to return to that planet.”

The dread in the room was palpable at the expected words. There wasn’t a mind in that room that wished to return to that chthonic planet.

Kirk’s own heart dropped to his stomach as he heard the sentence. However, he unwillingly understood this new ally would not ask such a thing on superficial request, and as an aware human being and captain, he knew he would need to hear it through.

“Why would you need us, humans, for this task?”

“Because to them, you are on such an inferior level that their entire defense would be not only deficient, but wholly unaware.”

“That’s comforting.” Kirk mumbled to himself. Undeniably, however, it was sound judgement. He wanted to put his hands to his face and take a minute to wallow in this war he’d found himself in, but his nature fought against it. Friend or not, he needed to stay confident and assertive in the presence of most.

“Continue.” he said. The one word, though not specifically definitive, told the alien that the Captain understood and was poised to follow through. 

“You would return to the planet, the crystals in hand, and make to offer the exchange. The crystals for your friend’s life. Myself and —“ 

Kirk shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, the stress seeping from his posture. 

“No, no, that won’t work. Spock is supposed to be dead. They told us that he would die if we veered off course, not that he would die unless we brought the crystals back. We later discovered it to be a lie, that they had venomized Spock to kill him regardless of if we retrieved the crystals or not.”

The being narrowed it’s eyes, the information being new to it.

“They convinced you of their knowing your location at all times, and whether you had arrived at that moon or not.” It stated, it’s theories eerily matching the truth.

“Yes.” Kirk answered simply.

“As I know you uncovered, both are lies.”

“If we go there, they will know Spock is alive. They’ll know we met you.”

“I can mask him.”

Kirk growled inaudibly in his throat, the absolute last desire of his being to put Spock in the path of danger again.

“Can you guarantee that?”

“I can, Captain. I can mask him, as I can mask my presence. My companions can mask their own as well.”

“We go, we tell them we’ve got the crystals…and?”

“They have no power to meet you in physical presence, Captain, and as you may or may not know, whatever form appeared before your eyes days ago was not real in a dimensional sense.”

“I know, it was a hologram.”

“Because they do not have these crystals, they’ve weakened. Abilities natural to our species have diminished to them without these crystals.”

“Not enough to stop them from killing us. They almost did Spock. They may not actually be in front of us, but their powers are unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable would not be an accurate word, Kirk, as with beings such as myself there, matters like your equivalent of breathing could be halted.”

The hairs on Kirk’s arms stood up. He hadn’t had time to think of how the power in the two groups had differed. 

“The moment that hollow betrayer is convinced it’s won, my people will contain them. We have an extremely complex, indescribable connection through mental seeds. We can detain them using this connection — you would be in no danger.” 

“You would travel on my ship? With us? There and back?”

“No, Captain. On our journey to this planet, we would be within this ship, yes. We can hide ourselves and your friend being on this ship. However, once we arrive and control the situation — you would leave.”

Kirk clenched his jaw nervously.

“What will you do?”

“Captain, I only require you to transport my people and I to this planet. Convince them of their victory. Then continue on your voyage, repair yourselves, reform your unforgiving memories, and journey on to explore this magnifying universe. Make progress, discover things you couldn’t before imagine, and forget what has happened to you here.” It spoke with a level that reached the back of the bridge, but it’s intonation was soft and asking. It almost seemed to wish that the abhorrence experienced was washed away in clean, though why, Kirk couldn’t understand.

The captain looked around the room, searching the eyes of his crew for consent. They answered without words.

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck and looked back to the being before him.

“It seems like this is something we have to do.”


	25. The Calm Before

It was decided that the ship take an accelerated path back to that planet swathed in ledger. The Enterprise’s new cargo had the power to take the ship there in only a matter of solar hours, but it was deemed unwise — perhaps suspicious. The evil they mapped towards had no power to trace their patterns or their locations, but they could record time as anyone else may. A quickened, but reasonable, pace was to be most sagacious.

“Perhaps a solar day, Captain.” it offered. “A day we can do, and a day should be fair.”

“I agree.”

Kirk and Scotty had escorted the being and his three companions to their ‘quarters’, which was nothing more than the botany deck greenhouse. It was large and spacious, it’s name of ‘greenhouse’ being more relic than descriptive. When one looked around, it seemed as if they could find themselves in a small wooded field. 

It was what they requested.

“You do not require…anything else? A place to rest, or food to eat? I understand what we have must not be relevant to your needs…”

“You are correct in that, Captain, but this is entirely suitable.”

Scotty was silent, wanting to accompany the captain to meet the visitors himself. He seemed to find himself off the bridge whenever this species was on.

The four of the strange beings turned to venture into the greens, but Kirk stepped forward.

“I must call you _something._ ” he implored. “If you are to be on my ship a full day.”

“Call me what you wish Captain.”

“You remind me of someone I used to study, when I was younger.”

The being looked at him in soft curiosity, as if edging him to continue.

“Hahv. An old Earth philosopher.”

It tipped it’s head. “Call me what you wish.”

“Your friends?”

“They do not speak.” he answered simply.

Kirk wondered what that meant — could they not, or would they not? He briefly thought perhaps they were not allowed to, but immediately dismissed that. Kirk’s intuition about this creature, this Hahv…it did not call for a control-obsessed wary. 

“You’re free to travel where you’d like, on this ship. I cannot explain why, but, I simply trust you —  and that is not something that comes easily to me…Hahv.”  Kirk half smiled at the incomparable, slender figure before him. The grass beneath it’s feet featured an emitting flora green, a soft bounce from the illuminessence of it’s being.

Hahv said nothing. He tipped again, almost in a slow bow, and Kirk turned to leave. With his engineer in tow, they left the greenhouse.

“Well crivvens, aren’t’hey somethin’ to look at?” Scotty exclaimed with wide eyes, his eyebrows dancing as he thought back to their presence. 

“Something for sure, Scott. I can hardly believe what we’ve discovered.”

“Yer saying that thing saved Mister Spock and the lot of you?”

“It did, yes. Hahv.” Kirk chuckled in spite of himself — he _had_ to call him something. A face like that deserved a name. Sometimes he was astonished by his own impulsiveness. 

“I cannae believe it. I’ve got to admit though, Captain,” Scotty stopped in the walkway. Kirk slowed to a halt and turned towards him.

“I’m mighty nervous ‘bout goin’ back there.” he admitted, completely unabashed. He was entirely grounded in his reservations and fears, and he considered that perhaps they were once again over their heads.

Kirk sighed and stepped forward to his friend, placing firm hands on the Scotsman’s shoulders. 

“I am too, Scotty. I’m nervous. But…we have to go. They need us. By helping them, we could invariably prevent the loss of countless lives. What if someone had the option to help them do this, long before we encountered that planet, and that someone had said no? Spock would have gone through all of that bullshit because that person denied this chance. If this hypothetical person had said yes, they would have saved him. Saved us from this terrible detour we’ve found ourselves on. I can’t be that hypothetical person, Scotty. I want to save the Spock’s and the Enterprise’s of the future. I have to. And I’m so sorry that it’s dragging you and everyone else into it.”

Scotty shook his head, a small smile playing on his cheeks. 

“I don’ think I’d be doing this for any other captain, Captain.”

 

— — — — — — — — —

 

“You’re sure you’ve tried?” pressed an annoyed doctor.

“You are wasting your breath with such an incredibly vapid question, Doctor.” replied an equally annoyed Vulcan.

“I don’t get it, Spock. I’ve seen you go through this healing process before, and back then, you didn’t even think you could because of your human half. Now we _know_ you can, and you can’t manage to pull it off?”

“Doctor, something has changed. I do not understand it either.”

His voice was gravelly as it was before, his breath weak but steady. Spock had recovered to a point of easily maintaining consciousness, but the Vulcan continued to feel constantly fatigued. As with any physical element-based body, his would take time to heal. The venom had taken a toll on his functions.

What wasn’t quite right, however, was that his body was supposed to be able to quicken this process.

That ability seemed, at the moment, quite debilitated. Intermittently.

“Whattya mean something’s changed?”

“You said yourself, Doctor, my body essentially died. You and the Captain tell me one of those beings did something to me, extracted the venom, or something of the like, which inevitably saved my life. It did something to me, changed something within me. Reorganized my variabilities, or disorganized them. I have tried, but I cannot fall into the healing trance.”

“But you need to!”

“Exclamations cannot cheat the truth, Doctor.” McCoy crossed his arms and pouted at the science officer’s pale skin. “And rather, I do not need to. I am quite alive, and on the steady road to regaining my strength. Rather unfortunately,” he almost uncharacteristically growled that last word. “it will take longer than preferred.”

McCoy huffed and plopped down into his chair near the raised biobed. He crossed his legs and propped his elbow above his leg, resting his chin pensively in his palm. He stared at Spock.

“Doctor?”

The older man thought back to Spock being in that biobed, so many times before, in such vastly different scenarios. It seemed like a nightmare, long ago — like a distilled reality that he remembered, but could not relay. Spock’s sharp mind had returned, along with his sharp tongue. It was edging closer to McCoy wanting to chop it off again rather the relief in hearing it. 

It was his demeanor that brushed away the memories of his torment; had Spock really been so weak, so vulnerable? So — dead?

Only the simmering gray pigmentations in his skin, the hoarseness of his voice, and his inability to walk which brought back the reality of what had happened. 

He’d wanted to try, of course, to be mobile, but the doctor immediately shut him down. The Vulcan’s muscles were far too weak. It was simply physics. 

“Doctor McCoy, you are staring at me.”

McCoy raised his head from his palm, realizing the how long he’d had the Vulcan in his crosshairs. 

“Sorry Spock, I’m tired. I don’t really have a tact-o-meter anymore. I’ve gotten rather blunt in the last week.”

“Only the last week, Doctor McCoy?” batted Spock dryly. 

“And apparently for another.” he said sourly. “‘We’re going back’,” he quoted scornfully, his mouth contorting in annoyance and disdain. “Jesus, Jim. What a thing to say to me at a time like this.”

“It is logical, McCoy.”

“Shut up, Spock.” 

“I am being entirely serious, McCoy, with no intention of eroding your patience. It _is_ logical to return, to end what we accidentally started. Prior to our disturbance to that planet’s space, I can only assume —“ he suddenly began coughing, the attack on his throat furtive and abrupt. He was already sitting up, but he reached out an arm to brace on the rail. Throughout his ordeal, he had become accustomed to these random attacks. Now, in a twisted irony, they weren’t a symptom of his demise but rather his recovery. 

“Here, here,” McCoy appeared beside him with a glass in his hand, pushing it into the Vulcan’s hand. Carefully, he was able to abide the cough with the water and Spock sat back against the pillow.

“You see what I’m saying when I say you need that healing trance?”

“There is nothing I can do about it, Doctor.” he replied, his voice slightly weaker but his eyes more alight. He’d had enough of being so weak, of everyone around him needing to take meticulous care of him. Spock preferred to be invisible to the universe around him, as long as the universe was completely available to him. Weakness, powerlessness — it did not suit what he favored.

For a brief moment, Spock thought he was going to have another bout of coughing, for his lungs suddenly felt chilled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on edge. The marrow of his bones felt hollow and the his aches were forgotten. Simultaneously, he and the doctor looked to the doorway to find an illuminating figure of alien light standing before them.

Spock’s eyes widened and he involuntarily sat up in alert. His heart felt as if it had stopped, and the pain in his chest subsided as a chill spread into his skin.

This must be them — the beings Jim had spoken of. Spock tried to conjure a mental image in his head as his friend recounted their appearance, but what his eyes saw only feet away from him could not match to what his mind had created. 

McCoy stood from his chair, not knowing the subtly protective stance he took at the foot of Spock’s bed. He had witnessed their charity in the forest, and he outwardly knew they were the good guys, but he did not share Kirk’s irrevocable trust. Perhaps it was because of how near he was to Spock’s wounds. 

Hahv recognized the body language the doctor took on, and it took no further steps into the room. It merely observed the lifeform laying in the bed. A Vulcan.

Hahv was able to recognize any species it came in contact with, even if it had never met one. It’d seen humans before, from a distance…but these Vulcans gave off a different energy. This one’s was fluttering, weak — Hahv experienced an internal stab at the realization that it was it’s own that caused this. 

The fluttering of this one’s energy was strong, though. Prior, when it had first seen the hueish skin and pointed ears in the forest of it’s people, it’d hardly felt anything at all coming from him. 

Spock’s eyes were locked with the strange being in front of him. He found he couldn’t blink as he shared the stare, the counterpart’s gaze seeping into his bones, his soul. The wondrous part of Spock lifted as he found himself opposite this unknown.

“I am…appreciative to see you alive.”

A sudden chill ran down Spock’s spine at the hearing of it’s voice. It wasn’t frightening or eerie, but entirely unforeseen in a strangely soft way.

Spock’s swallowed, his body a statue.

“Thank you for saving him.” McCoy said cautiously. He didn’t move from his position.

It finally moved it’s head to refer to the doctor, and softly nodded. McCoy inhaled through his nose.

Spock wanted to open his mouth, to ask this being so many questions; the doors it could open for his work — what it could mean for the future of space travel and science. Perhaps to express his gratitude for the erasing of his death.

His chest rose and fell steadily, unable to push out the words.

“How are you supposed to hide him?” blurted McCoy, the question being on his mind for the past five hours.

“I simply can.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Spock glanced at the doctor in front of his bed, reminded again of his vapid questions. It was with quiet surprise, though, when he realized these vapid questions were for his own sake. 

“I am. These ones we are in pursuit of…they are far less powerful than I. There is hardly a chance for them to cause any further harm.”

“You’re saying there _is_ a chance?”

“You can put a lamb in the same cage as a lion, but you cannot scientifically state that there is a 100% chance that the lion will win.”

“So does that make us the cage? The space which the lamb and the lion will fight?”

He didn’t realize how angry he really was. Perhaps is was the lack of sleep or the exhaustion of the situation, but McCoy’s patience had evaporated. Of course he realized that Jim was right, that they must do this — but he _did not like it._ Somehow blind courage had taken the place of his patience, as he found his emotions attached to the words he threw to this magnificently powerful alien. He surmised he’d look back on this exchange in bewilderment of his audacity. 

“I am in deep regret of this situation you and your ship have found yourselves in. It is why I ask your help to deter future incidents.”

Hahv looked back to Spock, who felt a fresh chill through his body. 

“I understand how unnatural those crystals are to a body like yours…I cannot fathom the damage it was exercising. I will let nothing more happen to you. Nor to your friends.”

Finally, Spock found his voice.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken a tad longer than preferred to post -- incredibly sorry! I intern at a small film production company, and when we have projects, there is no such thing as free time.
> 
> Speak soon
> 
> LLAP


	26. Symptoms of Living

He sat, still, curious, slightly perturbed.

Perhaps his doctor or nurse has noticed his new, unusual tick, though he tried to keep it from their eyes. If they have taken notice, they kept it to themselves, perhaps attributing it to his recent tumultuous experiences. This was the lie he told himself, too, before realizing this not to be the case.

His improving health may avert their gaze away from that which he himself was noticing, but it could not change that which he noticed. It was nothing that caused him fear, nothing that equalized to his past realizations when he discovered he’d been lethally poisoned…however, it was still a dubious observation. 

It was something he felt when he first woke, the moment he registered he was back on the Enterprise, alive. That moment when Doctor McCoy touched his skin, prying him to come to consciousness. Unknowing to the doctor, a shock of formidable voltage accompanied the contact, sending jolts straight through the recipient’s skin and up to his previously comatose mind.

It wasn’t _painful,_ but it was, in fact, far from comfortable. It was this unexpected shock that had Spock open his eyes, rather than the simple, gentle touch that McCoy assumed had accomplished such a task. Outwardly, his body completely fatigued and unaware, Spock came to like anyone might have expected of him.

Inwardly, his mind was shoved awake from McCoy’s push. A rush of emotions poured from the doctor straight into Spock’s mind, a ram of exhaust, concern, anger, confusion, anger, tiredness, anger — a thrust so quick and forceful that Spock thought he was some kind of _khajinaah,_ the Vulcan mind equivalent of a heart attack.

His touch telepathy was imbalanced.

 _Why?_ He felt himself wonder. Surely it wasn’t a symptom of the past offense to his body. Spock had found himself in precarious situations before which resulted in lengthy visits to medical, and not even an ounce of his mind had ever been affected. 

It didn’t become clear to him until he failed to fall into the Vulcan _tow-kath,_ a very specific and instinctualized thing that allowed severely injured Vulcans to heal themselves while unconscious. 

He’d done it before, and now he could not.

“ _It put it’s hand over your heart, which by that time, mind you, was completely submersed in black skin, and there was a strange, low light which seemed to use those crystals to absorb whatever was in your blood. You’re alive only because they, for some reason, seem to care for life.”_

Kirk’s recollections echoed in his mind as he came to his logical conclusion — whatever had been done to save him, had also killed a part of his Vulcan aptitudes. 

A fair trade, of course, but seeming rather inconvenient. Primarily when that astoundingly persistent doctor felt the compulsive need to check him over at every available moment. Prior to this ordeal, Doctor McCoy and Spock had unspoken, but quite known, boundaries between each other. McCoy knew, intimately so, _not_ to _ever_ touch Spock unless he was medically required to do so. Spock knew, also quite intimately, to never pursue conversation with the man as it was guaranteed to result in a fickle argument which Jim would need to end. It was an unspoken rule Spock found himself to be rather good at, as he didn’t care for conversation anyway.

Seemingly, these boundaries were forgotten and kicked into the dust.

It was becoming suspicious to the doctor when he innocently approached the Vulcan with a syringe, justifiably wanting to test his blood for medical purposes. He had a sample from when Spock was infected, and now he wanted to study it clean. Seemed, well, rather logical. He was lost in his own mind as he cleaned the needle, his actions on auto-pilot, and he didn’t bother to warn the Vulcan of his approach. He simply assumed the Vulcan was aware of his very transparent actions.

He reached out his hand to steady the Vulcan’s elbow, but the patient quickly snatched it away, his eyes surprised from the Doctor’s sudden reach. McCoy took an involuntary step backwards, taken aback from the reaction. If anything, a lecture or a Vulcan glare was to be expected — the wide eyes and very _human_ pulling of his arm to his body was, however, not. The Vulcan recovered before the doctor did, his body immediately relaxing when he realized the other man’s presence.

“Jesus, Spock, little jumpy?”

“Doctor McCoy, don’t you believe in audible communication?”

“I just want a blood sample. _For science.”_

“Must you have it at this precise moment? When we’re halfway to a planet which may or may not attempt to attack this ship?”

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do while we peruse on over there? Sit on my ass and sharpen a few knives, hoping I can stick one of ‘em with it?”

“Impossible, Doctor, as they would likely incinerate you before you even took a step in their direction. Perhaps even sooner, if you were to offer your maddening opinions to them.”

“You know what, you little ungrateful green martian —“

“Wow, I don’t know if I should be relieved or not at walking in on this.” Kirk’s voice echoed down from the hallway, being heard before seen. The doors swished open at his presence. The two offenders were silent, like grown children being scolded by their father.

“What’s going on in here?” He asked as he reached the two of them, his voice amused. Though he felt a deep worry for his ship’s new course, nothing could penetrate the relief he had in their beating hearts and wondrous presence on the Enterprise. 

“He’s making me grouchy, dammit.”

“Aren’t you always grouchy?” 

He asked this as he reached out to lean on Spock’s bedrail, who consciously moved his body away from the Captain. Unlike McCoy, there were no impervious boundaries between Captain and First Officer. There was an unmatched understanding between the two of them which didn’t require such regulations. Kirk arguably more so, as he somehow understood the Vulcan in a way no one else could — he simply knew, as if it were his own second nature, when and when not to touch him.

The subtle brash away did not go unseen, though Kirk didn’t outwardly show his notice.

“Don’t take sides, Jim, he’s pissing me off.”

“Well, what can you do.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave Spock a side glance, expecting them to share a knowing look that they usually shared in the heat of Doctor’s McCoy’s rants. The Vulcan, however, was staring at the wall, his brow slightly furrowed in annoyance. 

“Easy for you to be so off-putting to his infuriating green passive aggressive comments when you’re not the one watching over his dumb green ass 24/7.”

Spock looked up to the ceiling in impatience at the constant use of his blood’s color; it seemed when McCoy was especially riled up, his insults dwindled to a very narrow vocabulary.

“I thought he was on the mend.”

“He is! He’s on the damn mend! Look at him! He doesn’t look like a fucking walking corpse anymore and his stupid mind is essentially completely back on par, as he can’t seem to shut the fuck up! And all God all mighty —!” 

The louder his voice became and the redder his skin grew, the more emphasized his sarcastically flailing arms flung. Kirk rolled his eyes for both he and Spock, and he glanced up at the Vulcan’s monitor. Underneath the southern shouts, the doctor was right — he was looking far better.

“So why don’t you go sleep, Bones? He’s fine, like you said.” 

McCoy practically spluttered.

“I can’t go sleep! Are you kidding me?! Why don’t you sleep?!”

Kirk laughed in return, as if the comment personally offended the laws of common sense.

“Well I definitely can’t go sleep!”

“Great! So let’s just keep going, huh? I’m on a damn roll!”

Kirk rolled his eyes once more, and decided perhaps he’d better return to the bridge. He reached out a hand to place on Spock’s shoulder, as he often did, and the Vulcan almost seemed to wince at this touch. It was such a subtle and small movement, he almost thought perhaps he didn’t see it, and he concededly convinced himself he didn’t. If it was there, it was entirely fathomable — Spock was likely still aching from his recovery.

Spock knew he couldn’t continue to avoid every attempt at physical contact, primarily when it came to Captain Kirk, and he forced himself to sit still while his friend placed his hand on his shoulder. Most of his palm landed on Spock’s sickbay shirt, but the tip of his finger brushed across the back of Spock’s neck. If it weren’t for his hyper-aware and sensitive telepathy, he wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise.

A stab of a sword saturated with amusement, exhaustion, worry, and a million other emotions sliced into Spock’s neck and shivered up to his mind, which went white with the flood of fervors. It only lasted half a second, hardly a blink in most eyes, but the blunt and _strong_ rush of emotions felt suffocating to a species who tried to devoid themselves of emotions entirely.

Without much of a second thought to it, Kirk retreated back to the hallway, McCoy’s good-natured (but somewhat exasperating) shouts bouncing off the tiles.

The captain found himself gathering Scotty and Uhura to meet him in the greenhouse. He and his new ally, Hahv, agreed to discuss their course of action. Hahv seemed to think it redundant, as the action itself shouldn’t last more than a few minutes. Captain Kirk insisted anyway, to which Hahv readily agreed. It had no desire to defy Kirk of what he wished.

It seemed as though this new ally was more of a compatible partner than some of Starfleet’s own admirals.

“You must convince them that you are desperate,” Hahv implored. “convince them of your perils.”

“It will not be difficult for me to act as though we have seen hell, Hahv.”

At every use of the new name, Hahv’s illuminessence seemed to lighten in fondness. Silently, it thought Kirk a respectable, uncontaminated, whole being whom it grew to rather like. It was an odd realization, as it hadn’t had such elongated contact with humans, and they didn’t seem a race it’d think aware enough to with openly _be._

“They will sense these crystals.” It said, stretching it’s pure hand towards the captain. Several dazzling rocks curled inwards into it’s palm. “Take them, have their scent in your pocket. They will be desperate at the Nvandian presence, they will sense it as easily as you can sense the air — but we will be within the walls to detain them.”

Hahv dropped the rocks into Kirk’s hand.

“You know this,” it continued. “but whatever impossible may happen, do not give these crystals to those beings.”

“I will die first.” Kirk meant it. He would take himself down time and time again, if it meant preventing the clutches of something so powerful and evil to have a source of life.

“That is not an option, Jim Kirk, however admirable. I myself will not allow a single life of your crew to be lost.”

“I don’t understand how you can stop them before they destroy my bridge.”

“Our minds are linked like your tendons are to your nerves — with the right touch, we can render them completely immobile. We can do so with whosever hologram appears on your ship, and from there we can undertake the entire colony.”

“How many are there?”

“A number you would fear.”

Kirk swallowed. He still did not understand, though he didn’t think he would any more if he continued to ask Hahv to clarify.

“Uhura,” he turned towards his communications officer. “‘l’ll need you to record everything that happens in that bridge.”

“Forgo the images, Captain Kirk.” Hahv’s voice filled the air between the blades of grass. Kirk turned back towards him.

“You don’t wish for us to record this?”

“Record this, you may. In audio, and in reports. In stories and myth. Photographs, moving images, cameras — no.”

It was the only thing that Hahv seemed concrete on, something on which he didn’t seem to give Kirk the systematic leeway. It was because of this that Jim slowly nodded his head in understanding.

“Alright…no images. Audio, Uhura,” he turned to her. “and send it directly to HQ the moment we’re free of the threat.”

Her job, he thought, was one of most importance. Starfleet _needed_ to understand the danger of unexplored, dark, threatening, thick space. Often, the men and women sitting in their rotating chairs, collecting paper cuts and old Earth mochas, forget the very real lurkings of the stars. A reminder could do them well. It had happened so often in Earth’s history — a slashing of budgets, a cutting of corners to save a penny, and it was the training of soldiers that paid for it. Wars were fought, and they were blasted, because science was taken over by barbarism and the notion that how could anything be lost with a fist and a gun?

Advancement of science, the proper training of scientists, engineers, cadets, and Starfleet’s finest — it was a notion that Starfleet currently held strong and one that Kirk vowed to continue.

“We’re only hours away, Jim Kirk. This final climb will be swift, and we will be forgotten from your endeavors. My wish is you never think of this sliver of the galaxy again.”

Kirk shook his head.

“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, Hahv.”

It nodded — Hahv knew this. 

“Alright, I have a crew to prep. I’ll be on the bridge, where I belong. I have complete trust in you, friend.” Kirk’s heart was beginning to accelerate at the realization at their sensitive ticking of time, but he said this with the utmost truth. No matter the outcome, and overlooking what  made it possible, Kirk found himself glad to have discovered Hahv. It was a being unlike anything the Captain had come across, and it’s words coated him with reassurance of good in the galaxy.

Now, he prayed, the good in the galaxy would easily and swiftly take down the evil in it.


	27. Instinct Over Mind, Mind Over Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a chapter after this.

The anticipation in the bridge hummed through the silent air. A bead of sweat slowly dripped from Sulu’s forehead and plopped unnoticed onto the control board.

The hideous planet, which churned stomachs into nauseous shreds, was only 500 Earth miles before them. It loomed chillingly in the view screen.

Hahv had briefly come to the bridge, saying to Kirk that it had hidden itself and their Vulcan friend. It and it’s three companions were to disappear in the air as if they’d never existed, until the right moment came. Listening, but with his mind in a million different places, Kirk nodded as Hahv left the room. The captain wasn’t sure if it’d quite literally disappeared, or if it had simply slipped his vision.

Either way, Kirk found himself with the entirety of his bridge crew, the Enterprise on yellow alert, and a loud, empty chair at the science station. 

“Don’t hold back your fear,” Kirk breathed to his crew as he eyed the dreary looking planet. “Somehow, this species can sense our emotions. This one time, I’ll need you to let your purest instincts take over control. Keep your heads on straight, but let the fear and tension be palpable. Don’t give them any reason for suspicion. Got it?”

They nodded their heads. Kirk felt his pumping heart begin to seep through his bandages. A flash of deja vu flickered across his mind — had it only been such a short amount of time since he’d seen that alien ship on the horizon? The hologram of promised malice to come?

He ran his fingers over the sparkling pebbles in his pocket. He had to remind himself that he is still supposed to know nothing about this species; anything he learned from and about Hahv must be forgotten as he participates in this inevitable exchange. 

He makes a glance over to Uhura, their eyes meeting. He nods his head, and she engages the recording system. One of Hahv’s companions is ensuring it’s concealment.

He inhales deeply. The last battle in this never ending war — after this, they can leave this ungodly place. They’ll continue as they were, their lives intact and their minds wary, but awake. They will, finally, rest.

The were closing in on the previous location in which the alien had made itself apparent.

Inhale. Exhale. Focus.

The last time Kirk had been with the Cruel one, the one which almost killed his greatest friend, it had appeared on his bridge unnoticed. The captain’s back had been turned as it found itself unwelcome on the ship.

This time, however, Kirk’s eyes are directly on it’s slowly compositing form. A seeded anger plants in Kirk’s chest, thin fear breaking the shell in breaching roots. It’s appearance pulls together from the air, it’s body tall, shoulders hunched. A darkness lies in it’s bottomless eyes.

“You have them.”

It was not a question. It’s voice crackled, filling the room with greed and intense hunger. Kirk needed to choose his words carefully.

“Yes.” 

“I felt you leave your course, James Kirk.”

“Yes.”

“Your Vulcan shipmate?”

Kirk swallowed, his eyes unwavering. His nostrils flared and he felt a small lump rise in his throat at the words he needed to say.

“He’s dead.”

The captain’s statement was filled with such emotion, Chekov had to remind himself that it was a lie. 

“I warned you, James Kirk, not to. I warned you not to attempt to escape. I warned you that I would know, that I have that power. I warned you of what I am capable of. You deceived me, and your friend is dead for it.”

It’s lies were laid thickly over the bridge.

“Yes.” Kirk allowed a small, genuine break in his voice.

Not an ounce of remorse was visible on it’s jagged face. Darkness radiated off it like a heat lamp. Kirk idly wondered why it’s holographic frame lacked it’s past shortages, when it had been so obvious before.

It suddenly cocked it’s head, as if it heard a small noise no one else could hear.

“How can you find yourself so upset, James? Was he truly so significant to you?”

He couldn’t physically feel it, but Kirk knew the alien was reading his emotions. It’s tone was coated in entitlement, belittling the captain for his care over his first officer’s ‘death’.

A small flame of anger flared in the depths of Kirk’s gut. _When is Hahv supposed to take this over?_

It stretched a dark, impending hand towards Kirk.

“Give them to me.”

Kirk held still, his racing heart ironic against his statued feet. He tried to think of what Spock had gone through, the anguish and the relentless torture, to let his grief snuff out the fury. The night leaked from the alien’s aura as it’s hand held for too long.

“He was nothing, James Kirk,” it growled, impatience lining it’s words, mistaking Kirk’s hesitation for Hahv as regret for Spock. “Nothing compared to what you’ve got hiding in your pockets. He was weak. He was imbalanced. At war with himself over two halves of unwhole species, doubling the impurity which pulsed through his now stilled veins. I’ve done you a favor, Captain, and you must repay me in what is rolling between your fingertips.” 

Kirk’s growing flame sparked as he clenched his fist around the Nevadian crystals. Where is Hahv? What is taking so long? It had promised to intervene as soon as this one demanded the crystals. Is this a conspiracy against his ship, against the Federation? Has he been tricked into joining these two teams together, ensuring his own ship’s demise along with his entire crew? As the word _liar_ circulated around a mental image of Hahv, Kirk’s intuition ashed out his doubts. 

No. He knew Hahv was not a liar. He knew it to be a friend. 

Something was amiss.

Impatience won over the dark being standing at the head of the bridge, and it lunged towards Kirk with a vicious hunt. Kirk staggered backwards as it came upon him, positive this was his end, but it halted in it’s tracks as swiftly as it had moved. For a moment, Kirk believed Hahv to have finally taken control, but he soon found himself to be wrong. 

It cocked it’s head again as it bore it’s eyes through the walls beyond Kirk. Agonizing seconds ticked by as the entire room was silent, the alien towering over Kirk in remarkable stillness. Then, slowly, intensely, it’s eyes migrated from the walls to look directly into Kirk’s soul. His blood went cold, the alien only feet in front of him, it’s eyes sending icicles into the captain’s lungs. Kirk didn’t remember feeling so devoid of warmth during their first encounter. It was this moment that the captain realized that this was not a hologram.

“You lied to me.” It’s voice was low, unsteady, threatening. Depths of hellfire reeked from the expression that towed in it’s realization. Kirk’s arm was leaning against the captain’s chair, frozen from when he caught himself from stumbling when it lunged. The color from his face drained as they each, unblinkingly, came to grasp what the other was not saying. 

_It knew._

It immediately reached for Kirk’s pocket, it’s moonless fingers curling menacingly towards the crystals, but Kirk leapt backwards over the chair, holding the back of it as a partition between he and it. Having this baneful alien looming over him, insatiable hunger crackling in it’s eyes and it’s movements, leaking venin and murder from it’s pores, Kirk found only one thing running through his mind:

_Don’t let it have them._

Kirk instinctively palmed the outside of his pocket, expecting to feel the rocky pressure from the crystals nesting within. His knuckles turned white as he realized he felt nothing but the fabric of his pants.

A wave of terror ran through his body. He looked down and shoved his hand into his pocket, sure there must be a mistake, but his hunting fingers answer in affirmation. He jerked his head back up to the offense, afraid to see it twirling the rocks between it’s assassinating fingers, but it’s furious expression told Kirk that something else took the Nvandian’s from his possession. _Hahv_.

In a change of mind, it stalked around the chair, it’s feet poisoning the tiles as it passed Kirk’s bewildered face and headed towards the back of the bridge. Without thinking, the fear in where it was going taking over his actions, Kirk put himself between it and wherever it wished to go. It swiped it’s hand through the air, and the oxygen in Kirk’s lungs left him as he was thrown across the room, his body colliding painfully with the engineering console. Several officers stood from their chairs, shouting his name in alarm. It stood in front of the turbo lift, it’s shoulders adjusting in study as it looked at, or perhaps past, the walls.

Kirk’s brain pounded against his head, hardly registering the warm liquid running down his temple. Sulu and Scotty lifted him to unstable feet, but Kirk could only think of how that alien had made a point not to kill him, how it could have killed him, how it should have killed him, how it wants to wait to kill him, _how it’s going to kill_ ** _him_** _first_. Kirk can see it in the alien’s shoulders, in it’s poised stance — it’s mapping the ship into it’s mind, locating the thing, the person, the target, the lie that Kirk told it, that it’s now hunting for.

Before he knows what he’s saying, before he strategies what he _should_ say, what he should _do,_ he reaches out towards it, crying out “WAIT!” before it turns to look at him, a gleam in it’s black eyes, and it ebbs away into the air.

Kirk is paralyzed for only half a second before he sprints from his friends’ grip to his chair, pounding his fist against the communication control.

“SICKBAY! BONES, COME IN!” 

No one answers, and Kirk bounds for the turbolift, despite knowing there is nothing he can do. Knowing that the time it will take for him to sprint to medical will mean _nothing_ in the eyes of what this thing can do, what it may have already done, what it _will_ do even if Kirk could reach his friends before it. Panic rises in his throat. He pries open his communicator as he slams into the wall of the lift.

“McCoy, answer me _now! Bones!”_

In sickbay, the chief medical officer can hear his communicator chirping aggressively in his pocket, but the adrenaline coursing through him mutes it’s contents. Spock is sitting stiffly against the headboard, his knees half raised and his arms braced on the mattress in alarm. He finds himself alarmed, yes, but calm, his emotions controlled, logic and stoicism in the place of fear. 

Despite his control, vivid flashes of traumatic pain enter his mind at the sight of this thing that caused him to be so dead while barely alive. But then, as the figure sitting beside him stands, it’s replaced by dread. Dread at the sight of the back of McCoy’s head, standing between him and this nefarious being of shadow. Chapel lingers, hers hands shaking, ten feet to the left. Looking at this dark creature, she forgets what joy feels like. 

“Tell me how he is alive, or I will kill you in three seconds.” It knows there is only _one_ way this blacklisted Vulcan can still be alive, but the numbness in it’s disbelief demands to hear the words.

“Fuck you.” spits McCoy.

“ _Tell me.”_

In something that seems like a memory or a dream, it reaches it’s hand out towards Spock. Oxygen leaves his lungs, and he stiffens as a new pain flows through his flesh. In a horrible realization, Spock feels it to be different than the pain it had brought before; his blood curdles and an immense pressure fills his veins.

Before Hahv’s healing touch, there were jolting blue lighting bolts that decorated his poisoned collarbone, feeding down his shoulder and encasing his ribcage. There was no longer any trace of them. But now, a deep shade of purple sprouted from above his heart, and identical violet lines shot out from underneath his sleeves and neckline. Bolts of purple cobwebs stretch up his greying skin, running down his arms, climbing up his neck, moving entirely more rapidly than their former blue counterparts. The Vulcan saw whiteness, and he sat paralyzed as his body was infiltrated once more by this being’s heinous power.

McCoy reached behind him and grasped the pole which the biobed monitor lied upon, and he violently swung it into the alien’s head, cracking into it as if it were the ball and he were the batter. The pole snapped into several pieces, clattering to the floor. The alien staggered and it’s hand faltered, unsuspecting of the assault. Spock’s body releases, the purple lines disappearing immediately into his skin, and he gasps for air. He shifts over to meet Chapel’s gesturing arms. She tugs him out from the bed and helps him stagger to his feet as McCoy throws any object he can find, hurling it at the abominable. 

Once it shakes the surprise, clearly otherwise unaffected, the alien stops an incoming object midair and reverses its trajectory, nicking McCoy’s neck before it slams into the back wall. Hellbent on it’s target, infuriated at it’s initial failure at succession, humiliated at the foolery tried upon it, the alien shoots a hand through the air and slices it to the left to catch an unseen beam on Chapel. She’s launched away from the Vulcan. She cries out as she’s catapulted into a table, sending vials, papers, and glass shattering to the floor. Spock collapses, unsupported, onto the floor. He curses his weak muscles as he glances at her, fruitlessly wishing her to have been safe in her quarters.

Immediately, outrage lines his veins as he looks to the alien. Static shock fills the room as they meet eyes, victim and offender, casualty and criminal, prey and predator, the enraged and the vengeful. Spock can see the intent of death in it’s soulless gaze.

“Notice anything strange about your patient, _doctor?”_ It deplores towards McCoy. The doctor, holding a red stained hand to his neck, pulls himself up from the floor.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he clamors angrily.

“Clearly, he’s alive when _he shouldn’t be_. Somehow, you fools extracted that venom from him, but his blood is far from clean.”

McCoy takes a slow step back and to the left, his mind on survival, trying as he can to be inconspicuous. It’s words peak little interest in McCoy. Not when he knows his phaser is sitting atop the desk.

“It is clean.”

“ _It’s not. Didn’t you see what I did to him?”_ It hisses through it’s charcoal teeth, raising it’s hand again to demonstrate it’s statement.

McCoy fingers the wood behind his back until he finds a hold on the phaser. With the alien’s gaze on the older man, Spock braces his palm on the wall beside him, trying shakily to lift himself to his feet. He wants to signal McCoy _stop,_ to tell him _no, you will get yourself killed, this will not work, McCoy, you illogical human being what are you thinking?_ But he knows any noise he makes will give the doctor away.

McCoy, knowing his options are dwindled to nothing, swings the phaser around, his finger on the trigger, and shoots a deathly red beam towards the alien.

But it knew. It had known the moment McCoy had taken those few steps backwards, but in cruel entertainment, waited until the human thought he had the upper hand when he never did.

Spock’s shouts were drowned by the sound of the beam reverberating against the black alien palm, a deafening boom thundering through the air as eradication found McCoy squarely in the chest and he dropped like a dead weight to the floor. His endeavors evaporated into the air as if they never existed.

Leaning against the wall, Spock stared at McCoy’s stilled body with wide eyes. He suffocated his rising emotions, allowing his control and logic to forefront his mind as he looked back to the alien. 

“How are you alive?” It whispered with venom. Spock’s chest heaved in both pain and surfacing fury.

“I believe you already know the answer to your question.” 

It suddenly strode towards him like a predator, it’s head low, it’s anger fuming out from it’s body like a spigot. It shot it’s hand up, and where Spock expected a fresh wave of pain, instead it continued hunting towards him until it physically grasped his throat and threw him against the wall. It’s flesh felt like lava. Though his neck was scorching with it’s poisonous touch, he reached up his hands to futilely pry it away, only succeeding in the additional corrosion of his palms. He felt his breath escape him and colors spotted his vision, splotching over the still bodies of the doctor and nurse who so diligently tried to keep him alive. 

In the corner of his failing vision, a bright light filled the doorway and the intense pain pulsing down his body significantly subsided. He heard strange, desperate noises, and he thought it must be his lungs gasping for the air that wouldn’t come. A loud buzzing filled his ears. He wondered if this is what dying sounded like.

“ _Let him go, K—._ ”

“ _What are you doing on this ship, S—?”_ It sneered back, it’s voice echoing off the walls of S.’s mind. 

“ ** _Let him go.”_**

_“_ **_No._ ** _”_   
****

Hahv shot his hand through the air with impeccable agility, immediately throwing K. off the colorless Vulcan, it’s black body bouncing off the wall to mirror what it itself had done to the humans.

“ _You were given a chance, K—. You were given another life, a life which you did not deserve. You could have remade yourself, remade the mindless followers who you lead to this depth of ruthless, a-cultured corruption.”_

Hahv lifted K. through the air and it’s brightness circled to stand in front of Spock, K. rotating above them. It swiftly brought it’s hand back down, K. crashing to the ground, causing the entire room, the entire deck, to quake with the impact.

“ _How can you have strayed so far from our way? To kill so needlessly, so effortlessly, as if you enjoy it?”_

_“Because I_ ** _do enjoy it.”_** croaked K. from the floor, angry passion laced in his words.

Kirk saw Medical only a few feet in front of him, but he was knocked to his knees by a violent jolt of the deck. Kirk barreled back up to his feet and rammed his shoulder into the jammed door, his body slamming into the wood. He knocked the door away, but halted in his tracks at the sight before him.

Spock was sputtering on the floor, kneeling between his biobed and the wall, with Hahv standing between he and the one who meant to hill him. Chapel was tossed aside, an overturned table beside her, half conscious, limply pushing a book away from her prone body. McCoy lie completely still on the ground, eyes closed, blood pouring down from his neck. He was unmoving.

“ _I was wrong to banish you here.”_ Hahv’s strong, commanding voice dwarfed over K. “ _You’re done with chances.”_

_“S—, listen to me; look at what we can do. Look at what_ **_you_ ** _can do. How can you dorm yourself on a ship like this, a ship of the blooded, of the mortal? We —“_

_“Do not mistake yourself for immortal, K—.”_

_“I have a colony down there, S—…you can kill me all you want, but I know you can’t have many on this ship. I—“_

“ _Your people are already dead.”_

S.’s statement lingered in the connection between them, leaving K. finally silent.  K. could hear the truth in S.’s words. The gravity of it’s demise fell upon the link.

“ _They were few hundred less than what I left.”_ continued Hahv, an accusation in his mental voice. “ _Where are the rest?”_

_“I killed them,”_ admitted K. openly, proudly. _“after the humans left for the Nvandians. I killed them, so I could harvest their power to take the crystals from that damn Captain’s dead clutches.”_

_“Our entire species is built upon life, K—. Life. Living. Existence. To end another species’ is a part of that philosophy, but your own people? The people who gave up their lives to follow you down this path? How can you have that within you?”_

_“How can you not? You’re the weak one, S—, not me. Don’t you stand there, above me, as if you yourself are in the purity. As if you’re better than me.”_

_“I am not pure, K—. I have made mistakes. My largest, of which, is allowing you to live, banished, on this planet, after what you had done on our home planet. I will live with that regret forever._

_L—, Z—, and M— have amended this mistake on the planet below us, and I will rectify that mistake now.”_

“ _You won’t kill me. Them, the ones down there, sure…it must have been easy to kill them. They don’t know you like I do. They haven’t known you your entire existence. They —“_

Hahv clenched it’s jaw and clenched it’s fist in a kind of pained choreography, and the being called K. in front of it crumbled to a pile of black ash that disintegrated into nothingness. 

Kirk was at McCoy’s side, his fingers wrapped around the doctor’s wrist, as he watched the dance before him silently unfold. It was clear Hahv had the upper hand, but suddenly, surprisingly, the dark beast on the floor turned to emptiness. 

It was gone. 

“Hahv.” Kirk broke the silence. Spock had been on his hands and knees, a pained hand to his blackened throat, as he curiously watched this bright creature stand there to wordlessly defend him.

Hahv heard Kirk’s call, but it turned around to face the downed Vulcan. It lowered itself to meet eye level with Spock. It said nothing, but Spock could read the ringing, absolute apology in it’s eyes. 

It reached out towards Spock, who found himself to be surprised at his lack of a flinch, and it gently touched an illuminated finger to his throat. Immediately, the charred skin from K.’s grasp receded back to the green-tinted tone it was before, the pain gone with it. It rotated it’s hand to do the same with Spock’s palms. It moved under Spock’s elbow and effortlessly lifted him to his feet. Spock momentarily felt as though all his ailments were dusted away at the contact.

“Doctor McCoy?” Spock directed to Kirk, a deep dismay in his voice. He planted his gaze at the disturbingly still man. Kirk half smiled, a small amount of blood from his wound gathering in the corner of his mouth.

“He’s alive, Spock.”

The Vulcan couldn’t help himself at his reaction; he’d been certain the phaser, guaranteed to kill any man, any Federation species, had ended the doctor. He let out an audible sigh of relief, the alleviation taking his shaky legs. He’d barely swayed an inch backwards before Hahv put a hand behind his back, it’s touch sending a strange flourish of life through Spock. It’s effects of contact was in high contrast to it’s fallen brethren. Hahv brought him to kneel next to Kirk, and glided over to Chapel, lifting her (amidst her wondrous expression at it’s proximity) to her feet.

“How is he alive?” asked Spock. “It was a phaser, Jim…”

Kirk narrowed his eyes at the information and twisted around, searching for the weapon in question. He found it near McCoy’s feet and brought it to his eyes. He let a small puff of air out through his nose, disdainfully laughing at the audacity of the universe.

“It was set to stun.”

Spock slowly closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to feel. He opened them again, eyeing the calamity of strewn debris, the nurse who dusted off her blood spotted dress, the lights flickering in angry objection, the stream of red running down Jim’s face, the alive but stilled body of a man who was willing to die for Spock’s own life, the pulsing pain that seemed to never subside in every inch of the Vulcan’s body…

This could never be what he predicted to find when he signed himself to Starfleet. This was never what ran through his mind at his mother’s proud tears as she fondly waved him goodbye, this was never what he convinced himself to be more promising than the never ending, disappointing gleam in his father’s eyes, this was never what he found so appealing to be when he studied the twinkling, curious stars on the red planet of Vulcan…

But the defender in this, the being who was alone clear of blood and dirt in the room, who alone stood durable and strong, who’s entire existence proved a mystery to science and everything Spock had known, who’s very natural essence leaked light and life, who once more kneeled in front of Spock, who could sense the unwelcome emotions that pulsed through the Vulcan, who placed it’s jarringly bright touch upon the Vulcan’s shoulder —

Well…it, perhaps, was.


	28. The Budding Trees

“What happened, Hahv? Where were you?” beseeched Kirk, his muscles protesting as he helped Chapel lift McCoy to a bed. Spock glanced at the nurse from the chair he occupied. Without a thought, she had crossed the room during the midst of the fight and tugged him from his bed, determined to remove him from the crossfire.

His adrenaline was high, his thoughts elsewhere, and he hardly remembered the sensitivity of his touch telepathy as she reached for him. It wasn’t until she grabbed his forearm that it’s reality came rushing back to him. Her emotions were like a blast to Spock’s skin, streamlining from her fingertips to the depths of his mind. The violent mixture of varied emotions blurred together until he couldn’t clearly decipher the chart of the nurse’s feelings. He suddenly felt grateful for his control during times of duress, as human emotion was a highly uncomfortable feeling.

Shortly after Hahv had lifted her from the floor, Chapel had straightened her skirt and walked towards Spock’s kneeling position. They were abdicating Spock’s room, as it was now a littered disaster, and she had duties as a nurse, after all. Spock knew he couldn’t regard her with cold disregard in an attempt to avoid her touch, so he braced his mind for the onslaught of her humanity. In what seemed like foresight, however, Hahv smoothly lifted Spock to his feet and led him out his ravaged room’s broken door frame. Chapel quite quickly turned to the next task; Leonard. It was with unadulterated joy that she heard Kirk’s earlier discovery at the stun-set phaser, and she gladly helped her captain bring him to one of the beds in the main area.

“My companions and I found an unexpected obstacle to overcome. I am sorry for the delay, Captain.” 

“Well I should say!” Kirk sighed, letting Chapel take his position near McCoy’s head, her medical scanner waving over the prone man’s body. “I thought it had all gone to hell. I thought we were screwed — I was positive I’d come down here and see my friends’ bodies on the floor.”

Spock idly prodded his thumb over his palm as he looked between Captain and ally. As he was finally able to look at this alien…Hahv?…without an immediate threat looming, he found his scientific curiosity to take over. How had it healed his singed skin? What caused that light to constantly surround it? What was the appearance, if any, underneath the light? What was the difference between it and the other — and what was silently transpiring between them as Spock lied in awe on the floor? From his grating meld with the strange tree back on that moon, he knew this species had a mental connection that he couldn’t understand. One that was simply _nonexistent_ in the eyes of the Federation sciences. He knew this was what they were utilizing, but…what were they saying?

“What happened?” Kirk asked softly, a genuine want for an answer. He took a few steps forward, looking up at the bright creature who stood in the middle of the room. Kirk watched Hahv destroy the dark one, he knew the danger was finally gone _…_ but it was supposed to be so much simpler than what transpired. McCoy wasn’t supposed to be in one of his own biobeds, Chapel wasn’t supposed to have fresh specks of blood decorating her neck from a wound she tried to pay no mind to.  Hadn’t his crew endured enough?

“They employed a strategy I couldn’t have imagined. They were able to force just enough energy into their bodies, just enough of the Nvandians, by killing their own and taking what little was left. It was enough to restrict me from getting to you, the bridge, before my past friend could cause harm.”

“It _should_ have killed me. It had every single opportunity to kill me, to kill the entire bridge! Why didn’t it? Why didn’t it kill McCoy and Spock right when it materialized here?”

“If it had enough energy, it could have destroyed this entire ship in a matter of human minutes. This being, it wanted to board this ship in physical presence. The mirage it once exploited was no longer satisfying. I am sure you noticed this.”

“Oh, I noticed.”

“Our power can be unstoppable, Kirk, should we have sufficient energy. If we do not, if we only have a limited supply of these crystals running through our bodies, then our power becomes an hourglass. It will eventually drain. We will not die, but our natural abilities will be lost. I cannot say the exact motives, but I imagine your bridge was spared because it had intentions on killing others. To waste power on the slaughter of anyone else wasn’t in it’s ledger.”

Kirk clenched his jaw, imagining how vulnerable medical must have been at the time. There was a small, involuntary shake of his head at the thought. 

“However,” continued Hahv. “There shouldn’t have been much of a restriction on killing you, Captain. I do not know why it did not follow through with this at the moment of it’s realization.”

Kirk looked down to his shoes and swallowed a wave of anger. He knew why that thing hadn’t killed him. A chill ran down his spine at the unwelcome memories. 

“So what’s happened to this strayed friend of yours? Is he dead?” he asked. “It’s people on the planet?”

“Do not worry yourself with such questions, Captain Kirk.” It’s voice became soft, and if the others in the room didn’t know the alien to be so incredible, they would have thought it to sound almost tired. “You can take my promise in telling you that you are safe. The galaxy, safe. You’ve stumbled across a threat that should have never existed, and it no longer does. Your ship and your people are alive. That is what you should remember.”

The captain took in a deep breath and sighed. Kirk’s head ached, but looking once more at this creature, his pain was numbed and he felt himself filled with a deep light. It was such a strange effect, to be constantly more awake by it’s simple presence. It regarded the captain with kind eyes.

“I know it is impossible for you to forget, however it’s my wish you do not think often of what’s happened here. There are far better things for you to do with your travels. There are far better things in the vast blackness of stars than the blood of this one.” It looked over to Spock, who had remained silent. They met eyes once more, and it gave him a small nod. Spock’s chest tightened slightly at the contact. It was, undoubtedly, the most wholly fascinating species he had ever come across.

Kirk lifted the corner of his mouth in a weary smile. He knew Hahv would be leaving them. As if it could read Kirk’s mind, it’s light began to fade away, taking it’s form with it.

The dimming brightened once again, however, when an angry southern slurring came from the bed behind Kirk.

“Waitta damn minute!” 

Kirk twisted around, his eyebrows raised in surprise, as he watched his friend sit up in his bed. McCoy snuffed his confusion quickly, connecting his position and the situation and furrowed his brow in a characteristic mug. Chapel put her hand on his shoulder, unsure of what the man thought he was accomplishing. 

“Don’t you leave yet, mister!” 

Kirk cracked a smile. If there was anyone who would regard a mysterious and awesome powered species with such Earthly human fever, it was Leonard McCoy. Why there was concern for the doctor was beyond him, as the man clearly had the ability to bounce back and shoot tongue and cheek quicker than a phaser bank.

Hahv straightened it’s back and cocked it’s head curiously.

“Doctor McCoy, I am pleased to—“

“Now you can stop right there, sir. I have a question for you before you turn into a pile of dust and meander on away from this ship!” 

“…I could never bring myself to leave if you have an insatiable inquiry.” it replied. Was there a tone of dry humor in that sentence, or was Kirk’s misreading this mighty alien’s emotions?

McCoy nodded his head approvingly and set to searching his eyes around the room. He landed on a slightly pale Vulcan in a chair near him, and McCoy shot out a huffy finger to him, bringing his animated gaze back to Hahv.

“What the hell did that thing do to him? Before you decided it was a convenient time to show up and actually do something recreationally constructive, that cretin did something _different_ , something unlike what happened before, then had the _audacity_ to tell me his blood isn’t clean!”

Hahv seemed to sigh, and it shifted it’s stance. 

“I do not know what it had done to him, though I can make assumptions. However, I do know what it said is true: his blood is not clean. At least not in the clean sense of what it was prior to this entire ordeal.”

McCoy raised his brow expectantly, his lips tight together, waiting for Hahv to explain. Kirk narrowed his eyes, this information unknown to him. Spock found himself to feel nothing at the admission.

“When I retracted the venom of the crystals from his body, I was replacing it with the purity of the crystals. One element against another. I could not completely reconstruct his blood, as it was severely distorted from it’s natural state. In order to save him, I had no choice. Your friend has Nvandian crystals as a part of his physical make-up, and he forever will. The one who tried to kill the both of you, whom I could not suspect would be powerful enough, was able to sense it and manipulate it to harm him. It specialized in contorting the Nvandian’s to deplete life, and this is what it taught it’s followers. My way, my people’s way, is the opposite, for life is the natural way of the crystals, and of us. But this one is gone now, and your Vulcan friend is safe. There is not another species in the universe who can sense nor use this against him.”

“What does this mean for him, then? How is this going to effect him?”

Hahv looked back to Spock, the silent spectator.

“I believe he already knows.” It walked closer to Spock, and in a quieted voice, said, “It will not last to this severity forever, though it will never truly fade. I cannot affirm the ricochet of the future, though for me, your being alive dissolves the regret of any permanent effects.”

Hahv stood and stepped away from him, finding his place back to the middle of the room. He looked between Chapel, McCoy, Spock, and Kirk. 

“I truly wish this ship to discover the enthralling depths of the galaxy. You have no idea the magnificents of the beyond. Never fear the unknown, for it’s the unknown that will test on who you will become.”

“Thank you for saving my ship, Hahv.” smiled Kirk. Chapel held her hand on McCoy’s shoulder, who had a frown upon his face, but who also couldn’t help but marvel in the spectacle of it’s disappearing figure. Spock had his right hand up, his fingers parted down the middle in a salute he truly meant for the diminishing being.

The four of them found themselves alone. A few silent moments passed before McCoy found his tongue again.

“What the blazes was it talking about?” McCoy’s asked accusingly to Spock, regarding the brief statements it had given to Spock about his condition.

“My touch telepathy is dis-paired, and I find myself unable to successfully meditate or fall into the Vulcan healing trance.” He answered matter-of-factly. 

“It’s screwed with your biological make-up?”

“That is what it said, yes.”

McCoy exhaled a loud _pssh_ , crossing his arms to stare poutingly at the wall. 

“It is nothing extreme, Doctor McCoy,” reassured Spock stoically. “And the worst of it is the effect touch has upon me, so all I require of you is to keep your physical contact at a bare minimum until I can gauge the future of it’s course. Preferably after that, as well. Although I understand the simplest tasks can prove a challenge for you.”

McCoy threw his arms down, thwacking the bedtop, to glare at the Vulcan.

“You green goblin. I hate you.”

Kirk thought he may have seen the ghost of a smile cross Spock’s face. In effect, it caused one to cross Kirk’s.

“Shall we warp out of this sector at the fastest speed possible, officers?” He teased, flipping his communicator open. 

“Kirk to Sulu.”

“Captain Kirk! What’s happening down there?! Do you need assistance?! I have the phaser torpedoes armed and aimed at that planet, you just give me the —“

“WOAH, easy Sulu! It’s fine, listen, we’re fine.” Kirk exchanged glances with McCoy. The bridge must have been waiting in sweating anticipation for a call to action, their last visual being Kirk thrown across the room by a seemingly unstoppable alien. “I’ll explain later, but we’re all fine. Our new friends have left, and our new enemies are gone. Get us out of here, warp factor 7.”

“…Oh, uh…well I’m-I’m happy to hear that, Captain. Let’s book it. Warp factor 7. Sulu out.”

Kirk flipped it back shut and sighed dramatically. His eyes felt very heavy, but his mind was reeling like a projector spinning through spools of old Earth film at a weekend festival in the 20th century. He eyed McCoy.

“Bones.”

“Hmm.”

“You remember when we were in the lift, a long, long time ago? You were saying something about a Gerodi…Gerodi..?”

“D’Amato, yes sir, Gerodi D’Amato, I remember.” He chuckled, reading into his captain’s question. Chapel noticed Spock begin to stand, and she instinctively went to him to guide him to a biobed. Fresh information feeding into her brain, however, she stopped her reach and placed a hand on his back, careful to touch only his shirt. 

“Well you got any of those little sleeping pills he so wonderfully created? I think I could use a few.”

McCoy swung his legs over, testing his own balance, and stood from the bed. He breathed deeply, patted Chapel fondly on the shoulder, and began to stride to the cabinet. He subconsciously glanced at Spock’s monitor as he passed it, and felt the pressure lift from his chest as he realized the readings were the best they’d been in what seemed like ages. He smiled in spite of himself and looked back to the cabinet.

“All you’re gonna need is one, Jim.”

— — —

Two weeks passed, only a few being littered with nightmares of his first officer dying in darkness. As each day passed, his chief medical officer updated him with constantly improving reads, though they progressed slowly in Vulcan terms. And as each night passed, the restless sleep seemed to diminish, though it was difficult to eradicate flashbacks in the waking hours. 

He was glad to visit him daily, speak with him over what transpired and what they would need to tell Starfleet when the time came. Headquarters had just received the audio recordings as well as the report of the entire incident, and the Enterprise was awaiting their surely bug-eyed response. 

The patient was always coated with sickbay clothing, and he was rarely allowed to do anything other than sit with the captain in medical, and Jim found himself impatient to have the Vulcan back on the bridge.

Those two weeks passed largely uneventful, with the ship charting new constellations and gathering stardust as they pushed deeper into the unknown. Finally, Kirk’s chair console had buzzed, and McCoy notified him that his first officer was to soon be on his way up for cleared, full duty. Elated, the captain pushed himself off the chair and jaunted to the turbo lift. He expected to meet him and the Vulcan in sickbay, but instead, he saw the latter as he turned a corner in the medical deck.

The first officer seemed surprised to see the captain, here in the middle of the corridor. He was wearing that blue sciences shirt, the shining pin of Starfleet sitting appropriately on his chest. He was standing. He was no longer pale. He’d gained enough weight back to seem as though he’d hardly lost such a substantial amount in the first place. 

To both of their surprise, Kirk launched into an impulsive wide set grin, and he took the few steps forward to pull the alarmed Vulcan into a joy filled hug. Kirk knew it was a common _absolutely not_ \- you don’t hug Vulcans. 

But he made sure to wrap his arms around this one’s shirt, not to touch him otherwise, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. He’d been able to control his bursts of emotions when around the Vulcan, but, seeing him now, standing as he should be, Kirk found his control to dissipate.

“Damn it, Spock, I am so damn happy you’re alright.”

Spock was stiff, his arms glued to his side — but although the contact was uncomfortable for the Vulcan in him, his human half looked down to his friend with concealed affection.

He himself had rarely experienced night terrors. But that one night, when he was plagued with fever of the venom and the doctor had barged in to witness him in the aftermath of one, he would have one on every occasion of sleep. The meeting of Hahv helped to disembark them from his mind, and the resolution of the ordeal even more so.

However, he had no control over his subconscious. The deepest parts of him that refused to forget what pure agony felt like, what dying felt like. If he ever allowed his mind to wander…it would always wander to a dark, fresh part of his mind that he wished to seal away.

It was this reason he so anticipated his return to the bridge. Keeping himself busy with his work would allow him the peace he wished to return to.

This, and he strangely enjoyed being in the presence of James Kirk. It was a much brighter contrast to being held trapped with Doctor McCoy for two weeks, and Spock already felt the peace creep into his veins as he stood in the hallways of the Enterprise, his uniform on and his greatest friend (thankfully) now holding onto his shoulders with a smile plastered under bright eyes. Spock registered how much he truly looked forward to regaining a conventional, research-filled life back. He blinked at the captain and raised one eyebrow, a small light in his eyes.

“Of course I am alright, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, I suppose what sums up my feelings towards this whole deal is thank you. Thank you for reading, for reaching out to me, and for reviewing. I CAN'T BELIEVE how far this took me!
> 
> Let me tell you, I truly only began to write this as a drabble. I had one scene in my brain and I just had to write it, and hell, let's post it because why not? And here we are, months later, with a novel.
> 
> Because it started as a drabble mostly meant for myself, my entire story kind of followed that itinerary. I wrote each chapter because I really loved continuing the story, and I typed because it was just fun. There wasn't a lot of planning (besides my imagination running at work), there wasn't a lot of revising, there was just - writing.
> 
> As I mentioned before, I'm going to rework the entire fic. Better written, better connected, better better better. Same story, but, you guessed it, better. This is also mostly for myself, being as I put my heart and soul into this story, I want to see it be as good as it can be. And I have despised the title of this story since day one. I literally chose the first thing I came up with because it was just a story I was writing for myself, what does it matter what the title is? HA. I've lived with that regret.
> 
> So now, here is a link to the revised story, now called Trepidation in the Nameless. I've kept the crucial part of the title because it's become a part of the story's identity.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7225096
> 
> You can do what you'd like with that link - ignore it, follow it, re-review it, re-read it, re-read this one, move on to the next Trek fic...it doesn't matter so much, I'm just glad you read my story.
> 
> I don't know any of you, but I know that you have all given me something to look forward to. I know that I've rediscovered my love of writing. And I want to thank you friends for that.
> 
> LLAP


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